


Rogue's Prelude

by LynMars79



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Backstory, Circle of Knowing, Dialect, Gen, Headcanon, Limsa Lominsa, Mostly Canon Compliant, Rogue's Guild, Upright Thieves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-06-12 09:45:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 37,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15337212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LynMars79/pseuds/LynMars79
Summary: Years before Meteor, before Silvertear, before Merlwyb was Admiral, before the Upright Thieves became the Rogues Guild, a boy lived in the city of pirates and tried to pick the pocket of a Sharlayan mage. The mark wasn't what he expected, and the course of the boy's life changed forever.Here's one take on that story.





	1. Potential

**Author's Note:**

> I will do my best with the Limsan dialect, particularly the rogues' brand of it. I make no promises (especially since I still want things readable). Mix of familiar NPC cameos and OCs added in as needed. If people don’t seem 100% in character, well, this is something like approximately 18-ish years before Stormblood and people can change a lot in that time.

“Again,” Bochard ordered.

Thancred and Lonwoerd leapt at each other, their wooden practice stabbers clacking as they struck. Lonwoerd juked to the left, but Thancred was quicker, ducking under the roegadyn boy’s longer reach and blocking the incoming strike with one stick while jabbing with the other. Lonwoerd managed to deflect the swift blow and then shoved forward, trying to use his larger size to knock Thancred off-balance.

Thancred sidestepped with the motion, catching Lonwoerd’s arm and using the momentum to throw Lonwoerd over his shoulder. Thancred tried not to wince at the heavy thud of impact, nor the smaller crack of Lonwoerd’s head against the stone landing. Thancred followed Lonwoerd down, one stabber pressed to his opponent’s throat.

“Good,” Bochard called, ending the match.

Thancred stood, breathing heavily, and offered Lonwoerd a hand up. “All right?” He asked as the other youth staggered to his feet. They were both shirtless and sweating in the clear afternoon heat of Limsa’s upper levels; Bochard had been running them ragged for over a bell now.

“Bit rattled,” Lonwoerd admitted. “That’s three outta three fer the runt, ain’t it?” He asked Bochard.

“Aye,” their instructor said. “Can’t bully yer way past this’un, Lonny. Gotta keep yer wits, and _use_ ‘em.”

That drew a few chuckles from the other thieves idling about to watch the training of the young potentials. Lonwoerd gave them rude gestures and grinned. “Like to see the lot o’ ye try when he’s rattlin’ yer skulls on the pavement,” he joked. “Need to find our boy here a bigger ‘n’ meaner sparrin’ partner, Bochard.” Lonwoerd handed his practice stabbers to Thancred to put away.

“Meaner, mayhap, but size ain’t all,” a quiet voice cut through the jests. A few of the gathered thieves shivered.

“He ain’t ready fer ye, Tolu,” Bochard drawled.

“Won’t be long, way he’s been goin’,” the lalafell said, casually flipping his jagged daggers as he watched Thancred clean the practice gear.

Thancred tried very hard not to look back at Tolu as he put everything away exactly how Bochard liked. If he did look, Tolu would see confirmation of how swiving _terrified_ Thancred was at the idea of “sparring” with the nastiest thief in the guild.

Tolu believed in a rather vicious form of education.

The attention made Thancred nervous enough, but he dared not show it; it would be like blood in the water. Instead, he grinned as if he enjoyed the banter about his skills. Even pretend confidence was better than nothing among these particular sharks.

“All right, all right,” the Captain called. “Ye’ve all got work to do, dontcha?” She glowered at the assembled thieves. In a flash they had dispersed, some vanishing outright between blinks.

Lonwoerd picked up his and Thancred’s discarded shirts, stepping over to hand Thancred his. “Don’t let Tolu get to ya,” he whispered. “The Upright Lady won’t let that little bastard do nothin’,” he said, nodding toward the Captain as she walked away.

“Nothin’ permanent, maybe,” Thancred muttered.

“Thancred, c’mere,” Bochard called. Lonwoerd clapped a heavy hand on Thancred’s shoulder before he sauntered off to join some of his friends further down the quay. Thancred pulled his shirt on as he joined Bochard.

The trainer took the practice stabbers from Thancred and eyed him. “Tolu gives ye trouble, lemme know,” he said.

Thancred shrugged. “I can handle him.” He didn’t need Bochard worrying over him--or the attention that would call, on top of what he was already starting to get from the guild higher-ups.

“No, ye can’t,” Bochard said. “Not _yet_. Yer good, lad, but ye got a lot to learn. Tolu don’t take well to competition, and yer lackin’ somethin’ he ain’t.”

“Experience?”

Bochard shook his head. “Sure, but more’n that--a willingness to kill. Ye’ve a soft heart--now, there ain’t no shame in that,” he growled, staving off Thancred’s attempted protest. “If anythin’, more of our colts could be kinder--oughta be, fer some o’ what we do. And it don’t mean ye can’t or won’t kill, if things come to it--yer too practical fer that--ye’ll just look fer other options first, and that’s a _good_ thing, Thancred. Don’t let any o’ these coves tell ye different, either. Our work’s dirty enough as it is.”

Thancred thought about it a moment, and nodded. It made sense, and Bochard’s advice could be trusted. Then he frowned, and looked up at the man. “Ye think he’ll try t’ kill me, then?”

Bochard let out a long, heavy breath through his nose as he chewed his quid and thought. “At the least, he’s like to scar up that pretty face o’ yers.” Bochard spat some of his tobacco over the side of the landing. “He might take it further, if he feels pressed. Claim it was an accident, and none’ll be able to gainsay it, way he’s like to set it up. If it comes to it.” He eyed Thancred. “So don’t let it.”

“Right,” Thancred replied. He considered purposefully losing his next couple of training spars, let everyone’s estimation of his skills drop a few pegs. Wouldn’t work on the job, though.

“Ye’ve a shift on the docks now, don’t ye?” Bochard said, as if reading his mind.

“Yessir,” Thancred said. “Gotta charm some tourists.” He grinned. There was no way he was going to let Tolu scare him from that part of his duties--it helped that Tolu had the wit and charm of an eel so there was no way for him to feel threatened by Thancred’s fast talk and friendly demeanor.

Right?

“Make sure it’s actually tourists. Had a colt cloy a purse belonged to a Barracuda t’other day; Cap’n was _not_ pleased. Looks bad fer the guild when our potentials can’t tell the difference ‘twixt a pirate and a tourist.”

Thancred nodded. He had seen his fellow thief strung up overnight for breaking the Code--even accidentally. Personally, he wasn’t sure how such a mistake could be made; he knew the major crews, and a few smaller ones, by sight. Most had an item, a token, or even a whole mode of dress, that identified them in port. Then again, Thancred had always been good at remembering faces and information.

“Off you pop, then, ‘fore V’lenne gets even more irate,” Bochard said, dismissing him.

Thancred slipped off, trying not to let Bochard see the exact moment he vanished. He had yet to manage it, where the trainer was concerned. All the more reason to keep trying.

Thancred made his way to the lower half of the city and the docks stretching into the harbor, where more honest ships brought traders, settlers, scholars, and anyone else not a pirate to Vylbrand’s shores. Collectively referred to currently as “tourists,” these visitors to Limsa Lominsa were fair game for any of the gangs of petty thieves and con artists that lived among the docks, many of them loosely affiliated with--or at least watched over by--the Upright Thieves, both to keep them “in line” so far as the Admirality was concerned, and to watch for recruits into the guild proper, to help enforce the Code that kept Limsa’s thalassocracy in its precarious balance.

“Done gettin’ swooned over, then?” V’lenne growled as Thancred strolled up to the corner she leaned on. Ten seasons older than him, she was still a young woman, but her coarse black hair was streaked with premature grey, and her tanned skin was scarred and roughened by a life scrapping in the streets. Half her tail was missing and there were notches cut from her long ears. She didn’t bother to cover the milky white orb that remained of her left eye, but her right eye was still a bright gold, and missed nothing.

He shrugged and gave her a grin as he looked for the bundle of jackets she ought to have for him to pawn off on foreigners. “I can’t help it if everyone loves me. Someone in our gang should be likeable,” he teased her. V’lenne was considered the “feral dock cat” by a good chunk of the city; her prefered weapons were her fists, claws, and teeth. Sometimes she fought for money, but more often to protect the gang of adolescents she had accidentally collected over the years.

Despite her growling demeanor, it was V’lenne trying to get Thancred into the Upright Thieves; dangerous as it was, it would be a better life than staying part of her street gang.

V’lenne rolled her good eye. “Anyroad, change of plans; need ye filchin’ today. Feli’s sick.”

Thancred frowned. “This sick have to do with Bern?”

V’lenne looked out over the docks. “That ain’t fer ye to worry over.”

“Feli’s my friend--”

“And ye’ve a crush on her, I know. Yer not the only one tired of this, neither. Do yer job fer me today, all right? I’ll handle Bern.”

Thancred tried to dredge up a modicum of sympathy for the man, but found none, images of bruises on the elezen girl’s fair skin too sharp in his mind. He nodded to V’lenne and faded into the crowd.

The docks were busy; the tide had come in recently and had brought a number of ships with it, divesting cargo and people into the city. Thancred enjoyed the sights, sounds, and even some of the smells as he wove between fishermen stalls and merchant carts, seeking unfamiliar faces. He didn’t even look as he brushed past a few Thavnairian traders, listening to their sing-song language as he cloyed a purse from one animated fellow, arguing with the bosun of the ship they had just left. He should really pay more attention to his surroundings when in a foreign city.

As should the older elezen man Thancred noted, leaning on a staff while a pretty blonde hyur woman consulted a map. Her elder listened to her with patience--or perhaps he was simply half-asleep in the sun and heat.

Thancred ambled toward the pair, falling in behind sailors moving crates from the pier onto their ship, now that their passengers had disembarked. As he moved past his mark, he deftly nicked the contents from the old man’s belt pouch--

\--and found himself skidding a few fulms down the dock, a brief flash of light and a sound like a small, localized clap of thunder ringing Thancred’s ears and causing stars to burst before his eyes. A few people nearby were startled; he thought he maybe heard someone laugh.

“What’s this, then?” A deep, warm voice asked from just above him.

Thancred blinked until the starbursts faded away, and he could see the elezen crouching by him. Bloody hells, he was in for it now.

“Master Louisoix, are you all right?” The young woman asked.

“Fine, Yda. This boy is, as well, if a touch rattled.” That was a Sharlayan accent, Thancred realized. No wonder, then; all mages from that city-state, they said.

“Serves him right,” she said, crossing her arms and frowning down at Thancred.

“Shall we call the Yellowjackets?” asked a new voice. It seemed to belong to a sour-looking blond lalafell man.

Damnation; the Yellowjackets would throw Thancred in one of the prison hulks moored in the harbor--unless, or until, one of the current Admiral’s press gangs came around to offer “freedom” in the form of being worked like a dog on one of his ships--not to mention the rumors of how they treated youths onboard those vessels...

The elezen was studying Thancred, but before he could answer, the Vymelli dockmaster came strolling up. Even worse; the man knew, and disliked, Thancred. “There a problem here, sir?” He asked. “If this lil’ dock rat’s causin’ ye trouble--”

“No, not at all,” the elezen said before his companions could answer. He offered Thancred a hand even as he smiled up at the dockmaster. “I was clumsy and knocked this lad over, but no harm done. Here now, let’s dust you off.”

Thancred took the offered hand automatically, still feeling dazed. The elezen helped him stand up, and brushed his hand over Thancred’s shoulder. “Landed fairly hard there, son, it might be a bit bruised.”

“I-I’m fine. Shoulda watched where I was goin’,” Thancred said, trying to sound casual.

The dockmaster’s eyes narrowed. “That’s one of V’lenne’s brats, prolly sent ‘im down here to bilk honest folk like yerselves. I’ll have the ‘jackets take ‘im--”

“That won’t be necessary,” the older man said quietly, yet his firm tone cut through the din of the docks. All four of them stared at him. He smiled. “Don’t let us keep you from your work, good sir; there’s naught here deserving your attentions, nor that of the guards.”

Thancred wanted nothing more than to vanish into the crowd, away from the baleful glower of the dockmaster--but the elezen’s hand was still on his shoulder, making fading out pretty well impossible.

Funny thing was, he didn’t feel trapped; more like the older man was...protecting him?

Well. It just meant V’lenne was like to kill him later, at this rate.

The dockmaster grumbled, giving Thancred one last nasty look before turning away and stomping off. Thancred allowed himself to let out a shaky breath. One problem down, several others still remaining before he was relatively safe.

“You handled that well,” the old man said mildly.

It took a moment, before Thancred realized the elezen was talking to him, and looked up. On closer examination, he was perhaps late middle years, only just approaching “old.” White tattoos on his forehead and neck showed starkly against his brown skin. His hair was grey and was receding from his brow, and he wore a decent beard. His eyes twinkled merrily as he smiled down at Thancred.

“I uh...Thanks?” Thancred didn’t bother to hide his confusion now. “Fer not, well, turnin’ me over...Look, I’m sorry--”

“You should be!” the young woman said. “We ought to get off the docks. I’m already not liking this city.”

“I have to agree with Yda,” the lalafell said. “This has been quite a bit more excitement on arrival than even I was expecting.”

“You’re good at what you do,” the man said, not responding to his companions.

Thancred fought the urge to fidget under the studious gaze, kindly as it seemed. “Not so good that ye didn’t catch me,” he replied.

The elezen chuckled. “I _didn’t_ catch you, lad; I had a protection charm on that pouch--though it was perhaps a bit more potent than intended.” He glanced at the lalafell, who shrugged. “Frankly, I would never have noticed. None of us would. And we were on the lookout for such actions.”

The woman--Yda, they’d called her--frowned again. “I...well, I guess I didn’t notice him, not until the charm went off. Did you? And don’t you dare try to make something up! I can tell,” she said to the lalafell, hands on her hips.

He sighed and shook his head. “No, I did not, despite my best efforts and staying back to watch the two of you.”

The man nodded. “Better recommendations I could not ask for,” he said.

Recommendations? What was this daft old fellow on about?

“My name is Louisoix Leveilleur,” the elezen said. “These are two of my students, Papalymo and Yda. What’s your name, lad?”

“...Thancred,” he answered. Lying seemed like a poor idea at the moment.

Louisoix nodded. “You look as though you could use something to eat, and we could certainly stand to sup on something besides ship’s rations. Might we impose upon you to show us to a nearby restaurant? I hear this city’s cuisine is quite the experience.”

“I...guess so, if ye’ve got the coin,” Thancred answered. Rich folk and ships officers dined in Limsa’s famed restaurants, not street urchins.

“Master Louisoix, you cannot mean to--” Papalymo began.

“Trust me, my friend,” Louisoix said mildly. “And really, it is up to young Thancred here. What say you, lad? Care to escort us to a nearby establishment, and earn yourself a meal in the process?” He smiled.

Behind him, Thancred could hear Papalymo let out a long sigh as the lalafell exchanged looks and shrugs with Yda. Their opinions didn’t matter, he decided; just the old man’s. He seemed trustworthy enough, and no alarms were clanging in Thancred’s head, though there _had_ to be a catch of some kind.

People weren’t just this nice for no reason, in his experiences.

Thancred nodded, the idea of a decent lunch winning out. And anyroad, the man hadn’t turned him over to the Yellowjackets. “There’s a place I know, should be all right fer folks like yerselves, and the cooks’re honest.” They wouldn’t immediately run Thancred out, either, so long as he was in this company. Maybe.

Louisoix smiled. “Excellent. Lead the way, my young friend. We’ve much to discuss, and that, I find, is best done over a good meal.”

Discuss. So there _was_ something he wanted; fine, Thancred could at least listen, if Louisoix was going to pay for the meal. And if Thancred didn’t like the offer, he was sure he could find the opportunity to leave.

Thancred led the trio off the docks toward the streets of Limsa Lominsa, thinking of the yarn he was going to spin for V’lenne, and wondering just what this Sharlayan Louisoix Leveilleur wanted to discuss with a petty thief.


	2. Proposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thancred accepts the invitation to dinner, does his best to be charming, and gets an offer that's difficult to refuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I moved apartments last week; between that and how difficult this chapter was being in general, it took awhile. Thank you for bearing with me!

The restaurant wasn’t the nicest on the harborside street, but it was clean and comfortable, and the staff was attentive. They didn’t seem to mind Thancred’s presence, since he had brought them three Sharlayan scholars with appetites and full coin purses.

Yda, the young woman, ordered two separate entrees for herself. Louisoix and Papalymo ordered appetizers along with their own meals, and a light wine. “Order whatever you wish,” Louisoix urged Thancred.

The waiter was eyeing him. Thancred smiled back, pretending an ease he did not feel. “A plate of battered fish’ll do,” he said. Best keep it simple. He looked at the board listing all of the options again. On the other hand... “And orange juice.” He saw Louisoix raise an eyebrow, but ignored it; it had been _moons_ since Thancred had had a fresh glass of orange juice, and if the man was paying, he might as well take the opportunity. Only folk who lived out in La Noscea’s countryside, or those in the city with coin, regularly obtained the sweet drink.

“So you pickpocket for a living?” Yda asked as they waited on their orders. Papalymo pinched his nose and groaned at her. “What? We may as well get the awkward questions out of the way, right?”

Thancred thought about how to answer such a blunt question. “Well, not always, no. Most times, I’m sellin’ stuff, talkin’ to people--”

“While your comrades pick their pockets,” Papalymo finished.

Thancred shrugged. “Not my fault if the tourists don’t keep an eye on their blunt while hagglin’ prices. Market days are rough.”

Louisoix chuckled. “As we saw. You have quite the gift for your chosen vocation.”

“I didn’t choose it,” Thancred said. “Just the way o’ things. Ain’t a gift, neither; I worked hard to get as good as I am, so the Yellowjackets don’t nab me or the others. Have a ways to go, yet. So I’ll keep practicing.” He gave them his best sheepish grin and rubbed the back of his neck. “Mebbe not on any Sharlayan mages next time, though.”

That got him more smiles, and even a chuckle out of Papalymo.

“Oh, I think you have a few talents, honed by your experiences as they are,” Louisoix said. He paused to thank the waitress as she brought their drinks, not speaking again until she had swept back toward the kitchen. “You have lived here in Limsa Lominsa your whole life?”

Thancred nodded and shrugged a shoulder as he reached for his juice. “More’r less. Know pretty much every ilm o’ the place. Built on the bones o’ our ancestors original ship, the _Galadion_ , so once you figure out how the ol’ girl was laid out, and which way the Navigator’s Veils run from where her rails used to be, ain’t too hard to find yer way about.”

“Where did you learn about the origins of the city?” Papalymo asked.

What a strange question. Then again, he _had_ dropped that bit of history hoping to impress the learned trio and prove he wasn’t entirely ignorant. “Read it somewhere,” Thancred answered, trying not to look smug as Papalymo raised a brow and nodded. “Back when I was still takin’ lessons, ‘fore the old priest got milled by some drunk bug--er, fool.”

The old priest of Althyk had been well loved among the city’s poor, choosing to live among the squalor of the lower docks and offer his services as a healer as well as teaching the street urchins how to read and do sums. “Best way to change your lot is to have the knowledge how,” he had said. “Numbers and letters will be useful for any profession, be it here in port or aboard ship.”

Then some bastard had gone and milled the old man for the few coins he kept on him. Rumor said all the Upright Thieves were turned loose to find the culprit, and when they did…

Well. No one in Limsa forgot that lesson.

“Been readin’ here ’n’ there on my own since,” Thancred finished with a small shrug. He drank more of his juice.

“Knowledgeable as well,” Louisoix said. “Yes, I think this is a fortuitous meeting indeed.”

Man sure liked his hundred gil words. “Is it?” Thancred asked.

The waitress came back with their meals, passing out dishes until her large tray was empty. Louisoix again waited until she was finished and they were left in the relative privacy of their booth. “Indeed. Do you know why we are here?”

Thancred gave it a moment’s thought as he poked at his fish. “Well, yer Sharlayan. Yer folks tend the aetherytes, right? Somethin’ with that?”

That seemed to get the attention of the younger two; they were watching him now even as they dug into their own dishes. “That is one reason, yes. The Admiral asked for some maintenance to be done after the recent storms, and I had a mind to do some studies of the local aether currents on my own--and it affords us a fine opportunity to further Yda’s training.” Louisoix smiled fondly at the blonde woman.

Thancred looked at her. She shrugged back. “My Archon training. Well, eventually. It’ll take me time to earn that.” She gestured at Papalymo and Louisoix. The lalafell’s collar made it difficult to see, but he had the same tattoos on each side of his neck as Louisoix wore on his neck and face.

“So that does mean somethin’,” Thancred said.

“It is the Mark of the Sage,” Papalymo said. “It is awarded, along with certain rights and benefits, to any who attain the rank of Archon--a master--in their chosen field of expertise.”

“Sooo, what’s yer ‘chosen field o’ study’?” Thancred asked Yda, expecting a lot of fancy magic words he had no hope of understanding, but it seemed polite to at least ask.

She grinned. “Pugilism.”

He blinked. “Y’mean...fistfightin’?”

She nodded, then sighed. “If the Fist of Rhalgr wasn’t gone, I would want to train as a proper monk. But! There are a lot of old texts in the Great Library that describe many of their techniques, and others besides that those monks never learned, from places like Thavnair and even the Far East. If I can unlock some of those through study and lots of practice, I’ll have learned styles and abilities no one else has in a long time. Certainly no one in Ul’dah’s guild.”

Thancred simply nodded, chewing on his fish thoughtfully.

Louisoix listened, a small smile on his face. “Indeed. ‘Tis my hope some time to practice here in Limsa Lominsa will help Yda’s martial studies, particularly while Papalymo and I tend to our more esoteric duties.”

“And you’re welcome to them!” she said cheerfully. Then she turned back to Thancred. “Hey, I bet you know where all the best fights happen, and who to talk to--and who to avoid.”

“Yda, be reasonable,” Papalymo said. It didn’t have actual heat to it, though, to Thancred’s ear; more like something the man said out of habit.

“I am, Papalymo! Thancred’s from here, and even you think he’s well-informed, right?” She pointed out, pleased when he sighed, defeated, though exasperated by it.

“I actually had a similar thought,” Louisoix said quietly, in that way he had of getting everyone’s attention. “In fact, I have a proposition, young man, if you are interested.”

Here it was. Thancred inclined his head in curiosity, trying to not let the others see the sudden tension he felt.

“We are going to be here for the next fortnight, both in the city and among some of the towns and villages further inland. Yet we know very little of this nation and its ways. We could use a guide who knows their way around, and could tell us what to expect and how best to proceed when dealing with...certain elements,” Louisoix continued.

Thancred frowned a little. “Ye want me to be yer guide here in Limsa?” He glanced at the other two Sharlayans, who were blinking in surprise at the older man. They clearly had not expected this, either. And yet, Thancred did not sense that they mistrusted their master, even if they could not understand his reasoning.

“Indeed. You shall be compensated, of course; more than you would have received from taking the contents of that pouch,” Louisoix smiled wryly. “If you need time to think on it, by all means; you need not say yes here and now. I understand if you have other commitments and responsibilities.”

Thancred nodded slowly. “Yeah, I--I gotta think about it.” And see what V’lenne thought. Gods, she was like to murder him for this afternoon. Though if he brought her a proposal like this… “How much we talkin’?” He asked.

Papalymo snorted. “Perfectly reasonable question,” Yda said.

Louisoix smiled, and stated a number that made Thancred want to choke, but he kept his card-playing face on. The elezen was either daft, or loaded enough to throw wild sums about without a second thought. Mayhap both.

“All right, one, don’t go boastin’ numbers like that too loud ‘round here,” Thancred said. “Two...what’s the catch?”

“Catch?” Louisoix raised an eyebrow; otherwise, his expression remained the same kindly appearance he had maintained this entire time. “I am offering what I assume is fair wage for the work I am requesting. Particularly if you do end up guiding Yda into more...difficult parts of the city and surrounding region. While I trust you would not escort her somewhere too terrible, I also expect you to use your own skills to assist her, if need be.”

“Makes sense. Ye keep talkin’ ‘bout leavin’ the city, but I ain’t really been out in the countryside too much. Might not be as useful.”

“Trying to convince me to change my mind?” Louisoix asked.

Thancred shook his head. “Just a fair warnin’, especially fer the amount yer offerin’. Wouldn’t want ya to think yer bein’ cheated.” He gave them all his most charming grin, the one that Bochard and V’lenne--hells, even the old priest--swore would get him _into_ more trouble than it would get him _out_ of someday.

Thancred always figured he just had to make his charm work until he found whatever that tipping point was; it was like to be one hell of a ride to find it, at least.

“I appreciate the honesty,” Louisoix said, and by Llymlaen’s grace, he even seemed to mean it. “We shall be staying at the Mizzenmast Inn,” he continued. “I shall give your name and description to the man at the door, so they will not turn you away, should you decide to accept my offer.”

“And if I don’t?” Thancred asked, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his chair, not breaking eye contact with the older man.

“If we do not hear from you again by, shall we say, sundown tomorrow, then I shall assume you are uninterested. This will be naught more than an anecdote for us both.”

Thancred nodded once more. “Sounds fair,” he said. “Speakin’ of thinkin’ on it, though, I ought to be goin’.”

“Of course. Why don’t you take the remainder of the food? For your trouble, and frankly, we have nowhere to keep it presently.”

While part of him recognized the charity and wanted to rebel against it, the practical voice in the back of his head thought V’lenne might be a bit mollified by food that could feed the younger ones, if he didn’t bring back any blunt. It was like to be scavenged from the bins by other needful folk anyway, so might as well make sure it went to _his_ needful folk. Besides, there was quite a bit left over; he wondered now if that hadn’t been on purpose.

This Louisoix was sharp, and seemed to do most things for his own reasons.

So Thancred nodded in agreement, and the food was boxed and handed to him, and he blithely ignored the side-eye the staff gave him and the Sharlayan both. He waved jauntily to his new acquaintances and left the restaurant.

His steps quickened as he reached the nearest bridge, dropping onto another that crossed beneath it to wend his way back to more familiar surrounds. He was damned near running by the time he reached the back alley that dead-ended in one of the white stone walls that made up so much of the city, cut from the rocks of the archipelago Limsa had grown over. Thancred slid around the rough edge of the wall, half-hidden behind a pillar holding up a walkway high above.

Behind the wall was a forgotten set of rooms that V’lenne figured might have been some officer’s home, or maybe a business of some kind, that got abandoned and built around in the city’s continuous expansion, with an unhealthy side of competition amongst the many pirate crews.

Thancred knew that V’lenne had found roegadyn bones in the closed-off rooms, when she had discovered the place and decided to take it over for herself and her crew, several years before. Now the place was just home, and had been for awhile.

He had never asked what she had done with those bones. He wasn’t among the people who was supposed to know about them, he just happened to have found out anyway.

“Where in the seven bloody hells’ve ye been?” V’lenne demanded, standing as soon as she noticed him, the fur on her half of a tail poofy in agitation. “Kint said ye got bit!”

“Well, I did and I didn’t. I brought food,” Thancred replied, holding out his boxed goods.

Her good eye narrowed, but she took it, and passed it off to one of the girls nearby. “Hand that out,” V’lenne ordered. “Make sure Feli gets first pick.”

“How is she? Ye take care o’ Bern?” Thancred asked.

“Nuh-uh,” V’lenne wagged a finger. “Ye got some ‘splainin’ to do first, me dimber lad.”

Thancred told her exactly what happened--more or less. He didn’t mention skidding across the street thanks to the charm, and he maybe played up a tad much how impressed the Sharlayans were with his skills, but he didn’t exactly lie to her.

Mostly because she knew him well enough to call out his shite, but she never minded his exaggerations. Besides, it entertained the others skulking about the sidelines, not daring to get involved one way or the other.

“So they wanna hire ye on as a guide?” She said slowly. “Sounds a bit too good to be on the up-and-up. This old bugger gotta want more’n that.” He could see her fingers flexing as she imagined the worst. Her knuckles were freshly scraped and bruised, one of her nails broken.

“I...don’t think so,” Thancred said. “Everythin’ I read on him seemed honest. I mostly think he’s a bit daft and don’t quite get this city.”

V’lenne chewed on her bottom lip, nodding. He frowned; she was being entirely too thoughtful. “What is it?” He demanded. She tilted her head, and he followed her out of the room, away from the half dozen other dock rats good-naturedly fighting over the food. He noted Feli wasn’t included in the group. The one V’lenne had asked to distribute the bounty had come out of the room Feli shared with the other two girls.

V’lenne leaned on the far wall of the little room she had claimed as her own space. It was mostly barren; naught more than a thin mat and threadbare blanket to sleep on, and a lidless chest where she kept some clothes and her few random treasures. Thancred leaned next to her, mimicking her crossed arm stance. “How bad is it?” He asked.

She was quiet for a time. Then, “Yer too young to be takin’ this on, but I don’t got anyone else.”

“Young don’t mean much on the docks,” he reminded her. It was something she said often enough herself.

“Fer some things,” she agreed. “Bern’s not a problem anymore. I’m sure enough o’ that,” she said firmly. He said nothing; he didn’t want to know, especially if anyone came around asking. “But Feli’s in a bad way o’er it. Damn fool girl’s pregnant.”

Thancred winced. “That’s...somethin’, yeah. Is she happy ‘bout it? Or…?”

V’lenne sighed. “I ain’t sure she knows. But she says fer now she wants to keep it. Bit late to get a chemist to do anythin’ ‘bout it, anyway; she apparently didn’t realize it’d happened fer awhile.” V’lenne pinched her nose in frustration. She had done what she could to teach all of them better than that, to avoid this sort of thing.

Thancred pushed back his own anger, his own fears; none of that would help V’lenne or Feli now, much as he wanted to lash out at...something. Someone. Preferably Bern; but he was out of the picture, and now it was just V’lenne here, looking more tired than Thancred could remember, and than a woman her age ought to be.

“I should take the job,” he said. “It’s closest to honest work any o’ us are like to get, and more blunt than I’ll get in any other, or cloyin’ it off tourists.”

“I still think somethin’ smells ‘bout it,” V’lenne said. “But if it’s whatcha wanna do, then I ain’t gonna stop ya.” She pushed off the wall and turned to him, grasping his shoulder painfully tight. “But ye be damned careful, and the minute somethin’ feels off, get outta there, hear me?”

“Sharply,” he said, wincing as her claw-like nails dug in.

She nodded once and let him go. “Get yer rest. If yer still up fer it tomorrow, ye can go talk to the Sharlayan then.”

Thancred pushed off the wall and gave her a mock salute before leaving her room and wending his way to the space he shared with the other four boys in the gang. Everyone else was still carousing and eating in the main room, leaving him to flop onto his own lumpy cot and think. After a long moment spinning his mind in circles, he reached under the frame until he found his tattered notebook, a small nub of graphite tied to the fraying wrap holding it closed.

He scribbled out a few lines to calm his mind, thinking of rhymes that would suit a pretty blonde girl with bright blue eyes who studied pugilism, a fussy lalafell with tattoos on his neck, and a mysterious older fellow with his own tattoos and the kindest eyes Thancred could recall seeing in a long while--at least since the priest who had taught him his letters, and how to turn them into pleasing sounds, not just practical, rote numbers and lists.

By the time the other boys returned to the room, Thancred’s notebook was hidden again, and he was already trying to sleep, in order to get up early and find the Sharlayans.


	3. Pugilists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thancred helps Yda find a fight. Have a certain pirate cameo.

“Well this looks interesting,” Yda said as she eyed the multi-legged figurehead adorning the bow of the _Misery_.

“The Kraken’s Arms are one o’ the bigger crews,” Thancred explained. “And since they just got in from a long voyage, the cap’n’ll be wantin’ to let the crew blow off steam. Some’ll be visitin’ the pleasure barges, but others’ll be tusslin’ nearby, with each other and some o’ the other crews.”

“So, they’re actually pirates?” She asked.

“...Yes,” Thancred said. “This is Limsa Lominsa, y’know.”

“I know, I just meant...Well, we haven’t actually met any since arriving. Granted, we’ve only been here a day…”

Thancred laughed. “Yda, who do ye think runs the inn yer stayin’ at? Or the restaurant where we ate? Sure, they may be retired from the sea now, but they ain’t no less pirates. Hells, even that dockmaster used to be a reaver in his prime.”

“That one didn’t like you much, I noticed.”

Thancred shrugged. “I’m an orphan dock rat, which makes me a thief so far as he’s concerned; it’s a shameful general prejudice.”

“...You are a thief.”

“Besides the point.” Oh, he knew exactly why the dockmaster hated him in particular. Something about kissing the fellow’s daughter--on the cheek!--as a distraction so Feli could cloy a manifest the gang had been hired to bite.

All right, so Thancred had snuck back later to kiss the girl some more, at said young lady’s request. First girl whose lips he’d tasted; she was warm and wet and wonderful and he would have liked to keep kissing her, but then her father had come upon them and chased Thancred off, which was terribly unfair as he wasn’t even stealing anything that time.

“Anyroad, here we are,” Thancred said as they passed the ship, rounding a stack of crates to the scene of a few sailors wrestling to the jeers and cheers of their comrades. Thancred caught sight of other crews among the crowd; there were a couple Lost Bastards taking bets with a few Bloody Executioners, some Sanguine Sirens standing off to the side trying to look aloof, and even a handful of Knights of the Barracuda and their yellow-coated marines hanging about.

He also caught sight of an Upright Thief, but they pretended not to notice one another, as was proper outside the safety of the guild gatherings.

“Well, don’t you two look like trouble,” said a voice far too refined for the docks.

Thancred looked at the elezen youth leaning carelessly on the crates. The other boy was a couple seasons older than Thancred, but had yet to reach his adult height, barely coming to Yda’s shoulder. His already dark skin was further tanned and roughened from moons at sea, a few new scars brandished like trophies. A bandana covered his bright red hair, and his shiny, pale eyes watched the pair with feigned disinterest.

“Hoy, Carvallain,” Thancred greeted him. “Not off to the chocobo races?”

“Some of us have work to do,” Carvallain said. “There’ll be time later to prove I’m still the best rider on the Rhotano.”

“Lemme know, I’ll put some gil down,” Thancred replied. He nodded toward the wrestlers. “We still in the fer fun stage o’ these bouts?”

“For now. Don’t tell me you want to show off for your new girlfriend; we fight for real here, not dodge about ‘til you can get your little prick in.”

“I am not his girlfriend,” Yda said before Thancred could snark back at the young Kraken. She tilted her head and studied Carvallain. “Is that an Ishgardian accent?”

He stiffened and narrowed his eyes. “And what if it is?”

Yda shrugged. “Just curious; I haven’t seen many other elezen here yet. I thought maybe you were a duskwight at first which’d mean you’re from the Shroud, but you’re obviously a wildwood, and since living in Sharlayan the last few seasons, I’ve gotten used to northern accents.”

Thancred began to understand why Papalymo seemed perpetually exasperated. He wasn’t entirely sure Yda had a filter between her brain and her mouth.

Carvallain stared at her a moment, then rolled his eyes and went back to lounging. Thancred likewise relaxed; he had moved his hands closer to his own daggers when the young pirate had reacted to Yda’s tactless comments. The elezen might have been crass about it, but he wasn’t wrong about Thancred’s prefered fighting style.

Carvallain also knew how to use the axe he wore on his back; the young Kraken was said to be a properly vicious marauder, as if he’d been born with a weapon in hand. The only skill that seemed to exceed his martial prowess was his exceptional riding ability.

“Sharlayan, you say?” Carvallain said. “Yet your accent seems Ala Mhigan to my own ear.”

“Guess we all have our stories,” Yda replied, smiling. There was a sharpness behind it Thancred had not expected from her, not from what little he had seen so far.

From the corner of his eye, Thancred caught a small flash of light. The thief he had noted before--a skinny sea wolf named Slaeroega--raised a brow, his dagger out and to most eyes, being used to innocuously clean his nails, not reflect light into the urchin’s sight to ask if help was needed. Thancred shook his head once and turned back to Carvallain.

“Anyroad, I ain’t here to fight yer bullies,” Thancred said smoothly, as if the previous conversation had not occured. “Yda here, though, she ain’t afraid o’ a proper dust up. Think Broke’ll be willin’ to give ‘er a round?”

Carvallain frowned and studied Yda again. “I can ask,” he said. “Though if she breaks your friend, don’t be surprised.” He pushed off the crate and strolled toward the crowd of Krakens. Despite his slight size, several of the larger, older pirates moved aside for the self-assured elezen.

Thancred often tried to project his own confident aura, but Carvallain seemed to _actually_ be as haughty as he appeared. Even when he had first been picked up by the Kraken’s Arms, he had behaved liked royalty according to some of his detractors—none of them still part of the crew.

“Who’s ‘Broke’?” Yda asked.

“Broken Storm. She’s probably the toughest Kraken right now. Rumor says she studied with the monks in Gyr Abania, but left long ‘fore it all went to shi—before they were killed.” He looked at Yda. “Yer from there too, then?”

“Yes. My father,” she hesitated, and took a deep breath before speaking again. “My father was one of the leaders in the revolt against the King of Ruin. I fought with him—until the Garleans came, and he…” she cleared her throat. “Papalymo was one of the people who came to help, and got some of our people to safety among the Sharlayan, including me and my little sister.”

Thancred opened his mouth to respond, but then a shadow fell over him, and he looked up at the hulking form of Broken Storm. Her skin was a dark red-brown and covered in many colorful tattoos, her gold hair shaved close to highlight more bright marks across her face and neck. He could never figure out her eyes, except that they were dark and angry. “Hear yer up fer a proper fight,” she growled.

“Not me,” Thancred said, hoping his voice would not choose that moment to crack; that was an inconvenient problem lately, and he didn’t need Broke thinking she scared him. “Her.” He pointed to Yda.

Broken Storm looked her over. “I dunno. A stiff breeze’ll blow her right over.”

“The Corpse Brigade thought the same,” Yda said, her accent shifting from the studied Sharlayan to one more suiting her Highlander heritage. “They were wrong.”

“Fancy yerself a monk in trainin’, little girl?” Broke asked, unimpressed.

“No. I’m an _archon_ in training. If I had a real monk to train with, that would be helpful, but one must needs work with what one has.” She smiled cheerfully.

The hellsguard gave a short bark of laughter. “A’ight, little girl; let’s go a round.” She turned and stomped toward the center of the crowd. There were a pair of men still wrestling to the shouts of their comrades, but she ignored them.

Yda flashed a smile at Thancred and followed Broke. As she did, Yda pulled a mask down over her eyes, murmuring something he didn’t quite catch. It might have been a prayer; he thought he heard “Rhalgr” among the words.

Broke whirled and swung her heavy fist toward Yda’s face. Yda blocked the punch, her feet planting onto the dock and refusing to give an ilm. She jabbed her own fist toward Broke’s midsection, getting in past the roegadyn’s defenses. Broke let out a small “whoof” of air. It turned into a growl as she threw a feint. Yda caught the trick and avoided the leg sweep, bouncing away from Broke, then jumping right back in.

The bout between the women drew notice, and the pirates’ hollers and bets began to focus on their fistfight, instead of the men finishing their own wrestling match.

“New girlfriend?” Slaeroega asked casually as he faded in near Thancred’s side.

“Why’s everyone keep askin’ that?” Thancred sighed. “She’s at least four seasons older’n me.”

“Cuz we know ye,” Slaeroega said with a smirk. “Does seem a bit high class fer ya, though.”

Thancred scoffed, prompting a chuckle from Slaeroega. “So checkin’ up on me, then?”

“Ye weren’t loafin’ ‘round outside the Sisters this morn, so Bochard got fussy. Ye know what a hen he can be.”

“I’m workin’,” Thancred said. He gestured with his chin toward the fight. Yda was pushing Broke harder than anyone else he had ever seen; both women were grinning widely even as they tried to pummel each other. The pirates shouted for one or both. “Her and a couple other Sharlayans pulled into town yesterday, asked fer a guide what knows the rougher parts o’ Limsa.”

“Sharlayans, eh?” Slaeroega grunted. “Be careful gettin’ mixed up with them scholarly types. Trickier than the arcanists at Mealvaan’s Gate.”

“I’ll be alright,” Thancred replied.

“Bochard ain’t the only one lookin’ fer ya,” Slaeroega said, even quieter. “Had me wattles open and caught whid that Tolu thinks ye need a test, prove if yer ready fer joinin’ up proper. Cap’n told him to shove off, but...” he shrugged as he trailed off.

Thancred nodded, suppressing a stab of panic. “I’ll keep my eyes open, then.”

“And yer fambles on yer stabbers--ye might get lucky, even,” Slaeroega said, slipping his own dagger away. “Glad I didn’t put money on Broke fer once; yer girl might have her beat.”

“She is not my--” Thancred sighed again; Slaeroega was already gone.

The deck shook. Sounds of disbelief rose from the crowd. Broken Storm was on her knee, trying not to lose her breakfast. Yda dropped her fists and shook out her limbs. She was panting almost as heavily as the hellsguard, impressive bruises already forming on her fair skin.

Yda reached over to offer Broke a hand up. The Kraken scowled, and for a moment Thancred feared she had some fight left in her after all--not to mention the blow to her pride. Then, for the first time, he saw the anger in her eyes fade a little, and she smiled, clasping Yda’s arm and standing (mostly) on her own.

“By Rhalgr, y’are a proper Ala Mhigan pugilist,” Broke said. “Haven’t had a round like that in too damned long.”

“Nor I,” Yda replied, cracking her neck. “You did train with the monks, didn’t you?”

Broke was quiet a moment. She stepped away, drawing Yda and Thancred along with her, until they were away from the crowd of raucous pirates, already distracted with a fight breaking out between some Executioners and Barracudas. “When I was a girl,” Broke said in a low voice. “Weren’t the life fer me, though, so I ran off first chance I got, long ‘fore I could take any vows.” She looked out over the water past the _Misery_ , to where the harbor opened into the ocean. “Good thing, I s’pose, since it means I didn’t get killed with the rest o’ them. Never expected this life, but it’s the one I fell into, and it suits me.”

Yda nodded. “Well, thanks for the bout. If you could show me that one trick you did, though…”

The two women went over the moves they had used on one another; Thancred stopped paying attention to the specifics, distracted by Slaeroega’s warning. Tolu wanted to throw a test at him, and the thief wouldn’t care who got caught in the crossfire. Under normal circumstances, Thancred would just hole up for a few days until Tolu grew bored or was sent off across La Noscea on a mission for the guild. That wasn’t going to work with the current situation. He was going to have to be on his guard.

“Thanks for everything,” Yda said as she pushed her mask up, resting it on the front of her simple turban. “Sorry to keep you from any other fighting.”

“Eh, just some o’ the crews goin’ at each other. I get in there, and it’ll be over too quick fer ‘em to get it outta their system,” Broke smirked.

“Aren’t the ones in yellow the town guards?” Yda asked.

“Gods, don’t let ‘em think they got real authority. They play at bein’ official, but they’re no more’n the Admiral’s watchdogs,” Broke said dismissively. “But, ‘tween them and our upright friends, they do keep us pirates somethin’ like in line.”

“Upright friends?”

“We should be goin’,” Thancred interrupted. “Yer master said he wanted to be done with the aetheryte by midday.”

Broke chuckled. “Aye, aye. Drop by if ye want another real fight, girl. And don’t let that boy give ya the runaround.”

Thancred grinned and waved farewell to Broke. “C’mon, we gotta get up to the Aftcastle.”

The pair left the docks behind, finding a ramp that wound toward the upper levels of the city. “Feelin’ alright? Ye look beat to the seventh hell,” Thancred asked.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Yda said. “I’ve had far worse than this.”

“Guess so, if ye were in a war.”

She didn’t respond to that. He gave it a minute as they climbed to the Upper Decks, and then said, “Sorry, by the way. ‘Bout yer father.”

Yda blinked. “Thanks. Sorry, it’s still hard to think about.” She glanced over at him as they rounded a corner, the stairs to the Aftcastle just ahead. “What about your family?”

Thancred shrugged. “Don’t recall much ‘bout my mother. Rather not recall what little I do ‘bout my father. Handed ‘round to others when not in the orphanage. Been with V’lenne’s gang fer a bit now; safer than bein’ on yer own in this city.” He frowned. He hadn’t meant to share so much, but there was something open and honest in Yda’s demeanor. She felt…safe. Like V’lenne, but not as sharp or hard.

He cleared his throat. “Anyroad, here we are, and looks like a bit early. Or they’re runnin’ behind.” He gestured to the aetheryte as they came into the plaza at the top of the stairs. Louisoix and Papalymo were at work, alongside a pair of arcanists from the Gate.

“Best to stay out of their way then. Master Louisoix won’t mind, but Papalymo will fuss if we’re underfoot.”

“Fussin’ seems to be his natural state,” Thancred said.

Yda laughed as she moved to a bench along the edge of the plaza. “It does seem that way, but he’s really a sweetheart once you get to know him. He cares a lot; he’s just impatient.” She sat and patted the space on the bench next to her, inviting Thancred to sit. “I think you actually did impress him, but I never told you that.”

“‘Course not,” he said as he sat next to her. “How’d I manage that, pray tell?” The lalafell sure hadn’t seemed impressed; if anything, he had looked annoyed when Thancred had shown up at the inn that morning after all.

“Your talk about the priest who taught you to read, and what you know of history. He didn’t expect it.” She smiled. “He forgets there are books and schools outside Sharlayan. They like to think they’re the only ones who care about scholastic pursuits.”

“How ‘bout you? You don’t strike me as a scholarly type, now that we’ve had the mornin’.”

“Oh, I’m no mage, but I do like learning, so long as it isn’t all rote memorization from an old book. And to be an archon, I have to learn a little common magic. Basic cures, how to use my anima to teleport and such. But nothing like what Master Louisoix and Papalymo can do. It's a good, general education though, and I’ve a lot to catch up on, if I want to be strong enough.” She turned to look at Thancred. “What about you? You said you like to read?”

“Well, yes. Can’t quite understand anyone who doesn’t, honestly.”

That seemed to please her. “What kind of things do you like to read best?”

He thought about that, and shrugged. “Pretty much anythin’ and everythin’, really. There’s some swi--really neat stories outta history books; some right bloody battles and high drama with betrayals and secret marriages and poisonin’s an’ all. I like knowin’ how things work; it can be useful, knowin’ somethin’ about them Garlean devices, right? Knew a cove who cloyed one from a fella once, and ended up losin’ most o’ his fambles when the thing blew, cuz he didn’t know what he was messin’ with. But I guess what I like best...Promise ye won’t laugh?”

“Cross my heart,” she said, making the gesture with her gloved hand.

He watched Louisoix and Papalymo for a moment before continuing. “I like poems. Just...somethin’ about findin’ the right cadence, the way some of ‘em ye can pretty much sing. I like music, too, and songs--not just shanties like the sailors sing, proper ballads--but...I dunno, somethin’ about a story told in rhyme is just _satisfyin’_ , y’know?”

“I’ve never been good with poetry,” Yda said. “But I do like to listen to people who are good with it read it aloud. Master Louisoix can make anything sound interesting. I bet you would, too.”

He grinned and hoped he wasn’t blushing. “Thanks fer sayin’ so. I never thought about readin’ out fer someone else--not since the old priest taught us, anyway.”

“Maybe on this trip you’ll get the chance,” Yda said, smiling at him. She seemed warmer, somehow, and her bright blue eyes felt kinder as they regarded him. Gods, she was pretty. Maybe he shouldn't mind people assuming she was his girlfriend after all.

“Hey, I meant to ask, but it seems like you avoid swearing in front of me. Or am I imagining things?”

“Uh, well, yer not s’posed to cuss in front of decent folk. S’pecially not ladies.”

Yda laughed. “I am no lady!”

“Well y’ain’t a dock rat, either,” he said.

“No. Just an Ala Mhigan refugee, trying to fit in with my Sharlayan benefactors,” she said, a wistful tone to her voice.

“Puts ye above the likes o’ me, still,” he said.

That made her frown, and look at him oddly. He wondered if he had offended her, but Papalymo called to her just then; the mages were finished with their diagnostic of the aetheryte.

“C’mon,” Yda said as she stood. “After that much work, they’re probably as ready for lunch as we are.”

Thancred followed her, wondering for perhaps the hundredth time what exactly he had gotten himself into with these people and their strange honesty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea why these chapters are so long compared to my other stuff ;_; I'ma blame baby bard-rogues being worse than their grown-up selves at self-editing.
> 
> Speaking of, my headcanon for the ages for this: I'm putting Thancred at about 14-15 years old; Carvallain is 2 years older, according to lorebook, so 16-17 and not quite his full giraffe-y self here yet. Papalymo's 10 years older than Thancred, so early 20s here, and Louisoix's mid to late 50s-ish (which seems old to a younger adolescent).
> 
> Yda's tougher, as the lorebook, released between "Revenge of the Horde" and "Stormblood", purposely kept "Yda's" entry vague. If Lyse was 4-5 when Ala Mhigo fell 20 years ago, but Yda was old enough to fight against Theodoric, she had to be at least a teenager. I put her roughly 10-ish years older than Lyse, maybe 15-16 when Ala Mhigo was occupied by the Garleans. I'm saying she's maybe 18ish or thereabouts for this fic.
> 
> As for Thancred's attempts to not swear in front of some people, that inspiration comes from his attempt to keep his language cleaner as he walks up on Lyse, M'naago, Alisaie, and the player in 4.3 (which, given that crowd, strikes me as hilarious). Off the top of my head, he's seemed to keep his language pretty clean in public for most of the rest of the game, which seems like it must be a conscious choice for a Limsan-born rogue and wordsmith.
> 
> In 1.0 the Limsa aetheryte was in the Aftcastle, and moved to the Octant after the Calamity.


	4. Prophet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louisoix reflects on just why this random street kid has caught his attention. Leave it to a teacher to have more than one answer.

Louisoix opened the window and breathed deep. A strong evening breeze came in off the sea, the inn far enough above the harbor and lower docks that none of the ranker scents mixed in with the saltspray.

“How much more can there be to do? Ow!” Yda asked.

“Stop squirming and it won’t hurt as much,” Papalymo admonished. “And there is plenty. Attenuating the primary aetheryte means we must recalibrate the shards across the city’s aethernet—“

“Stop,” Yda groaned. “I ache enough, I don’t need you giving me a headache on top of it.”

“You look as if you were trampled by a buffalo.” Papalymo applied more salve to Yda’s harder to reach bruises. “That boy should have found you a less brutal opponent.”

“Don’t you blame Thancred. He did what I asked, and besides, I knew what I was getting into.” Yda paused. “It was nice talking to Broken Storm too, afterwards.”

Louisoix heard the wistfulness in her tone. No matter how much the girl loved Sharlayan and her friends there, her heart belonged to the mountains and people of Gyr Abania. It was why she was struggling to become an archon, for the sake of her fallen homeland.

He turned to his students. “And she taught you much, you say?”

“Oh yes; she knew some tricks not just from the monks, but moves she picked up in Thavnair. I got her to show me afterwards.”

“I suppose it was worth it then,” Papalymo said with a sigh. He screwed the lid back onto the salve jar.

“And how was our young guide?” Louisoix asked. “You seemed to be getting along well enough.”

“He’s a good kid,” Yda said immediately.

“He is a thief,” Papalymo snorted.

“He’s an orphan,” she replied. Papalymo looked away from her glower. “He’s part of a gang to survive and not be on his own, or sent to an orphanage. He likes learning how things work, and reading for the fun of it; he likes songs and poetry. He tries to be polite in front of people he thinks are ‘better’ than him.”

Louisoix saw, under the indignation, that Yda was upset by that last statement. She was often the subject of derision amongst her peers in Sharlayan; told she was not good enough, or that a foreigner should not try to become an archon, especially a young woman on her own responsible for a child. No wonder she reacted strongly to the boy’s situation.

“There seems to be more to this young man than is apparent at first glance,” he said, as Yda nodded in agreement. “Very well; we shall continue to retain young Thancred’s services. I think his insights shall be quite useful, even outside the city.”

“As you wish,” Papalymo said, resigned. Someday, perhaps, his brilliant pupil would learn to see past the exterior, and his own preconceptions. For now, so long as Papalymo trusted his judgment, they could carry on—and the young thaumaturge might realize he had yet more to learn.

Louisoix looked Yda over one more time. The elements that answered to his conjury smelled and tasted of salt. “I believe we have done all we can for tonight; a good night’s sleep will do the rest.”

“Sounds good, actually,” Yda said with a yawn as she stood with only a little wobbling and stretched, wincing slightly. “I thought spending the afternoon shopping would be all right, but I think that wore me out even more! I did find some cute ideas for presents for Lyse, to pick up before we go home, though.”

“Good, good,” Louisoix said, unable to suppress an indulgent smile at the mention of Yda’s younger sister. “We shall ensure she is properly spoiled to make up for your absence,” he promised. “Sleep well, Yda.”

She waved and murmured a good night as she retired to her room in the rented suite.

Papalymo shook his head and finished putting away the first aid supplies. “Is there aught else you require tonight, sir?” He asked.

“No, not at the moment, Papalymo, thank you. Is there something on your mind?”

Papalymo hesitated, then looked up at Louisoix. “You seem rather interested in that urchin,” he said. “Even intervening on his behalf, instead of handing him over to the local authority--such as it is in Limsa Lominsa, at any rate.”

Louisoix nodded.

“Was it a vision?” Papalymo asked. “One of your prophecies?”

Louisoix gave him a small smile as he shook his head and then turned back to the window.

No, Louisoix thought. It was not the boy he had seen in his storm-born dream--it was a man, with the same ash-blond hair, flashing eyes, and devilish grin. A man that stood alongside Papalymo, Yda, and Matoya’s serious apprentice, Y’shtola. In Louisoix’s dream, the four of them faced an imposing figure in armor, in defense of another who seemed lit from within, while the smaller moon burned red and far too low in the sky. The armored figure had leveled a weapon at the group--

Then a crack of thunder, close enough to rattle the house, had woken him, and he had set about securing hanging plants and open windows against the storm.

He heard Papalymo sigh again behind him, and the younger man’s robes rustle lightly as he bowed. “Good eve, Master,” he said, before retiring to his part of the suite.

“Good night, Papalymo,” Louisoix replied, continuing to watch the stars wheel above the dark, glistening ocean.

He was the foremost expert on prophecies and divinations among his people, and some of that study had come to affect his own dreams on rare occasion. He did not yet know what this one meant, though the brief image had been vivid enough to recall upon waking; some dreams were simply like that. Louisoix had set his youngest pupils to search the tomes of prophecy while he was gone, and had not thought of it again--not until he saw the young thief upon arriving in this city.

In any case, that man was not here--not yet. The boy was, however, and it was Louisoix’s fatherly and teacher instincts both wanting to help a child in need. An orphan in a street gang to survive, Yda had said. It was a cool night; he hoped Thancred had a safe place to sleep.

Louisoix closed the window and sat at the room’s small writing desk. He wanted to make a few notes on the day’s work, as well as on his own musings. Journaling was a good way, he had learned, to not only wind down and organize one’s thoughts on the day, but as he got older, it was easier to remember events when he wrote them, and could refer back later.

The lamps were burning low and the chronometers had long since chimed the midnight bells when there was a light knock on the door. Louisoix blinked and rose from his chair, stretching stiff limbs as he crossed the little suite. He opened the door and looked down.

Thancred stood there, shivering--the boy’s hair and clothes were damp, and he smelled of the fouler seawater along the lower levels of the city. His bare feet were filthy, one cut and oozing blood. He had a death grip on a tattered notebook, and there was more blood staining his right arm. He smiled sheepishly up at Louisoix. “Um. Sorry for disturbin’ ye…”

“Please, come in,” Louisoix stepped aside to allow the youth through the door. “Are you all right?”

“Yes...Well. Sorta. It’s been a rough night.” Thancred looked away from Louisoix.

“Obviously. You don’t have a home to go back to, do you?” Louisoix asked, as gently as he could.

Thancred tried to hide a flinch. He did not answer right away. “...It’s complicated,” he finally said. “I shouldn’t’ve come here.” He turned toward the door.

Louisoix put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Thancred, stay. It’s too late to be out, and you’re still wet; you’ll get a chill.” The blood on the shirt did not seem to be his own. That was only slightly reassuring.

“I’m almost dry, and I’m Lominsan--”

“You are missing your shoes and that foot needs tending,” Louisoix continued.

Thancred looked down at the long, bloody scratch on his foot. “Oh. Not sure when that happened.”

“Definitely an interesting evening, then. Here, have a seat,” Louisoix said, directing Thancred to the settee where they had tended to Yda earlier that evening. “If you want to explain, I will listen,” Louisoix said as he pulled the first aid supplies out and set to work cleaning the cut. “If you do not...that’s all right, too. There is room for you here, regardless.”

That seemed to take him a moment to process. He frowned and looked at Louisoix; they were eye level, with the boy seated while Louisoix knelt to tend the cut. Thancred’s eyes were a light brown, almost hazel. There was a suspicion in them, born of years surviving in rough conditions Louisoix could scarce imagine. “Why?”

“Why...what?” Louisoix asked, raising a brow.

“Why...help some wharf rat that showed up on yer doorstep in the middle of the night? After tryin’ to lift yer purse, no less. Ye’ve been nothin’ but nice this whole time.”

“And you want to know what’s in it for me, when—and how—you shall be asked to pay what is owed?”

Thancred nodded. He looked worn out, enough to not entirely hide his fear--though not of Louisoix. Or at least, he was not as frightened by the Sharlayan as he was of something else.

Louisoix chuckled and shook his head, disinfecting the cut. There was no reaction from the boy, despite how it had to have stung. “There is no catch, no shoe dropping, nothing owed--beyond the services already agreed upon, that is. What I receive in return is assistance navigating parts of this society I have no understanding of, nor could help Yda with. And more than that, the simple satisfaction of helping my fellow man.”

That got him a skeptical look from the adolescent. “Ye really believe that?”

“Don’t you?” Louisoix asked. “Sometimes, Thancred, that help, and the satisfaction that comes with returning it to others, is all that we have.” He used a light bit of conjury; the wound was not as deep as he had feared, the warm flow of elemental magic closing the rent skin. It looked as if it were a week or more old now, rather than fresh.

Thancred turned his foot, examining Louisoix’s work. “Handy trick, that.”

“A simple one. You could learn it, if you wished to.” Louisoix put the first aid supplies away once again. “But for now, we both need our rest. You are welcome to the couch. I am sure there are some extra blankets and pillows around here.” He stood, wincing as his knees cracked after several minutes spent crouching.

“Ye...said ye’d listen. If I wanted to talk.”

“I did.”

Thancred smoothed his hand over the cover of the notebook; it was wrinkled and bent, and had suffered water damage at one point. A frayed leather strap held it closed, a simple graphite stick held against the pages between the cover. The pages, that Louisoix could see, were tattered and discolored, stuffed-in notes and dog-eared edges apparent. This meant much to the lad, and he recalled what Yda had said about Thancred’s literary interests.

“I may have t’ explain a few things ye ain’t s’posed to know,” Thancred said, reluctantly. “But it’s mostly...I can’t go home cuz it ain’t home anymore; everyone’s gone. It ain’t safe now--and that’s my fault.”

Louisoix sat in the armchair opposite Thancred. He clasped his hands and leaned slightly forward, giving the youth his undivided attention.

It came in fits and starts, the need to share warring with a mandate of secrecy. But once the boy found his rhythm, he was, Louisoix thought, a natural storyteller.

“Once I left Yda here, I went back t’ where we stay--my gang, I mean. Ate, messed around, the usual. Then, well, I went to get some writin’ in, and that’s when I realized everythin’ was goin’ wrong…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could swear I remember reading somewhere that Louisoix himself had actual prophetic visions, but don't know where that was now. So, in my headcanon, he does, alongside/because of his studies and his gifted way of foreseeing how events would unfold. I never actually played 1.0, as a caveat; I just do a lot of reading and digging into things.
> 
> Next we're back to Thancred's PoV and what sort of interesting night he had.


	5. Predicament

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stepping back to show what sort of interesting evening Thancred had, that led to him showing up at the Sharlayans' suite in the middle of the night.

Thancred waited until the other boys were asleep before reaching under his cot for his notebook.

Yda had only wanted to pick up a few necessities at the market for now, but had noted some things she wanted to return for before the Sharlayans left La Noscea. She had told him of her little sister—who sounded like a handful, Thancred thought—and her own favorite books, all of them delightfully flippant and even trashy, not a scholastic tome among them. The afternoon’s conversation had given him a few ideas for a story he had been working on as a gift for Feli; she always liked his stories.

The notebook was not there. He leaned over, squinting into the low, dark space. If one of the others had touched his things, there was going to be a reckoning.

A single sheet of paper caught his eye in the dim light. Thancred snagged it. It was a page of his own poems, but there was unfamiliar writing below his own scrawl.

_“Your rhymes are shite. If I kill you I’ll be doing the world a favor. See you soon, you won’t see me.”_

“Not very subtle,” Thancred muttered. He tore the note off the page, folding the half with his own poem—it was a draft, it wasn’t supposed to be good yet, the uncultured git—and put it in his pocket. The note he kept in hand, crumpling it a little as he returned to the main room.

V’lenne and Feli were still awake, speaking quietly. V’lenne was sewing a patch onto someone’s shirt, while Feli counted coins from the day’s haul. They both looked up.

“Thought ye were gettin’ to sleep?” Feli asked. She looked pretty, as always; dark hair in a ponytail draped over her shoulder, long limbs moving with certainty and grace. She had been shorter than him until recently; over the last several moons her height had come in, her form now tall and willowy. She was the best pickpocket he had ever met; her elegant fingers were able to lift whatever they passed over with none the wiser, her marks oft times distracted by her sweet smile.

Like he was now, dammit. He blinked and shook his head. “We had a visitor,” he said, showing the note to V’lenne.

She looked it over and frowned. “That’s Tolu’s callin’ card ain’t it?” She looked up at Thancred. “Ye scared?”

“...Yes.”

“Good, ye got some sense,” she said. “Whatcha do to get on his bad side? Besides bad poetry?”

“They’re _drafts_ ,” he replied hotly. Being angry helped keep the panic away. “He thinks I gotta be tested or some shite.”

Feli and V’lenne shared frowns. “I told ye sendin’ him to the Sisters this soon was risky,” Feli said.

“Well no helpin’ that now,” V’lenne replied. “And it’d be a waste of his skills otherwise.”

“I am right here,” Thancred growled, crossing his arms. He hadn’t known Feli had disagreed with V’lenne trying to get him into the guild.

V’lenne sighed. “Normally I’d tell ya to hole up here, but he obviously knows where ye sleep.”

“Surely the Upright Lady’ll have a say ‘bout this,” Feli said, brows drawing together in thought.

“I’ll give that a go,” Thancred said, grabbing the shirt he had draped over a chair earlier.

“Now?” Feli sounded alarmed.

“He only wants me, and I don’t want the rest o’ ya caught in the middle,” Thancred said. Bochard had said Tolu probably wouldn’t kill him, so it was likely just a scare tactic. Bochard had also said Tolu wasn’t above scarring or otherwise maiming Thancred though, either. And if the thief was particularly moody, well...

“He might be waitin’ outside hopin’ ye do leave!” Feli said, standing up. Now that he knew what to look for, he could see the signs of her pregnancy, no longer hidden from the rest of them.

“Then this’ll be done ’n’ over quick, won’t it?”

“Thancred, wait,” V’lenne said. “I’ll go with ye.”

He thought about it, and much as he appreciated the idea, he couldn’t rely on V’lenne’s protection. Not when the others needed her more. He wasn’t a child anymore—well, not a small one, anyroad—and this was a challenge to him alone. Tolu wouldn’t hesitate to cut through her, or any of the others; he had a reputation for not minding collateral damage.

Thancred bolted.

Behind him, both women cursed and made to follow. He didn’t focus on what Bochard had taught him, he just did it automatically while keeping an eye on the shadows around and above him, watching for a glint of cruel red eyes and dark purple hair.

He lost V’lenne and Feli almost immediately. On any other night, he might have felt proud of that.

He eschewed his usual route, keeping to the shadows of well-lit and well-traveled streets, moving to the upper levels to take the long way around. As he reached Hawker’s Alley, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled; he was being watched.

Thancred forced himself to continue moving normally, keeping his hands near his stabbers. He caught a glimpse of a lalafell with violet hair ahead, waiting on a ledge. Aha; Tolu wasn’t as sneaky as he thought...unless he _wanted_ Thancred to see him...or it was a plant...

Bugger this.

Thancred turned sharply and dashed toward the nearby rail. He leapt, sandals pushing off the stone, then the metal rail, and then he was falling through the air. He reached out, praying for Llymlaen’s grace, and caught one of the heavy ropes holding up the awnings on the dock below. His shoulders wrenched and it hurt like hell, but he ignored that and swung himself hand over hand down the rope as fast as possible; he was far too exposed.

He dropped onto an awning as soon as he could, feeling a brief breeze skim by his ear. A dagger stuck in a nearby beam, while a second bounced off and clattered into the darkness between closed merchant stalls. Thancred followed it down into the shadows and behind the stalls, wending through stacks of merchandise until he found a gap for a well draw for one of the freshwater springs deep in the island.

He slid down that rope, pausing at the ledge of the next level down. He slipped off a sandal, gently tossing it onto the deck before continuing to slide another two levels. He swung to that deck, the stone base of the isle rough on his bare foot. He yanked off his other sandal, keeping it in hand as he ran silently through the shadows toward the wharfs.

His original route had taken him away from the Sisters, and he was still a good malm away from the false convent’s relative safety. If he stuck to the streets, anyway. Thancred was a native Lominsan, and there was always a ready means of quicker travel.

He reached the shore of the isle, stone giving way to wooden deck, and he slid silently into the water, taking a deep breath before diving, going down and down until he found the bottom. It was too dark to see more than the occasional flicker of light from above, so he went mostly by feel and memory. He didn’t dare resurface until absolutely necessary. He counted the minutes as well as the distance, using the dock pilings as a measure.

Holding one’s breath for as long as possible started as a toddler’s game, playing in the water as if a fish; many Lominsans never forgot how to swim during infancy the way so many others did, afraid of the water as if they hadn’t been formed in wombs full of it. As children grew, their breath holding games became useful for helping with various aquatic jobs. If not working, competitive games as childhood became adolescence helped maintain efficient lung capacity.

Seven minutes. His chest was burning. Eight minutes. He could barely see anymore, even when there was light. His previous record was a little over nine minutes, and he was still further than he wanted to be. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, every ilm of his frame begged for breath. He was at nine and a half...nine and three quarters…

His head broke surface under the ferry dock, greedily swallowing the air as he gripped the slick beams, shaking from lack of air as well as the cold of the nighttime sea. Ten minutes; longer than anyone else he knew.

Had it been enough?

He forced himself to get moving again, swimming quietly under the dock. He was almost there. His second sandal had been lost somewhere along the way, he realized.

A slight pressure hit the deck above his head and he froze. A shadow moved above, walking openly to the door leading to the convent. Thancred risked peeking over edge.

Another shadow detached itself from the wall to meet the first, smaller one. “Hoy, Tolu,” the doorman said in a low voice. “How’d yer huntin’ go?”

“Open the swivin’ door,” Tolu snarled. The doorman leapt to obey, unlocking the gate.

Thancred couldn’t deny the thrill of actually managing to mislead and lose the best thief in the guild. But that was only for tonight; tomorrow would be another story. And the day after that, too.

Besides. There was a serious issue needing addressed.

Thancred pulled himself onto the dock, a strong hand grasping his shaking arms. “Llymlaen’s tits, lad, yer jus’ ‘bout froze and drowned!” The doorman exclaimed. He peered at Thancred, and laughed when he recognized him. “No wonder Tolu’s in a foul mood. Good on ya. Now get the hell outta here; the man’s out fer blood.”

Thancred shook his head, still trying to get his breath back. “Can’t. Gotta...see the Cap’n.” His voice had dropped again; perfect.

“I dunno that it’s a good idea, lad.”

“Not the first stupid thing I’ve done tonight,” Thancred said. “Lemme in.”

“Yer funeral,” the doorman said, opening the gate and holding the door for him.

Thancred grinned. “I hope not.” Act confident. He could do this; the Upright Lady would see this was unreasonable.

She was in the main room, arms crossed, glowering down at Tolu. The other thieves hung along the edges of the room, watching the standoff.

“This has been long comin’,” Bochard muttered as Thancred came up beside him. “Tolu’s stepped outta line, goin’ after ye like this.”

“Why’s he hate me so much anyway?” Thancred whispered.

“Yer the first person in a long while with the capability, and the drive, to not just be as good, but _better_ than him,” Bochard whispered back. “He already got a chip on his shoulder, fer all sorts o’ reasons that have nothin’ to do with ye or anyone else here. General anger at the world, that’un. Yer just the unlucky bastard that got his attention at the worst time.”

“Wonderful,” Thancred muttered.

“I told ye to leave the boy alone,” the Captain said coldly. She was short for a sea wolf—some highlanders were taller—and all green; dark evergreen bobbed hair, light mint green skin, olive green eyes that currently flashed with anger. She was wearing a sleeveless cropped top that showed off the lean, wiry muscles of her arms and midsection, and the various faint scars decorating her skin. She had no real distinguishing marks or features, but she moved like a predator, and the daggers on her hips were unusual in their design and glowed faintly with the materia bound to them.

“If ye think the child’s ready fer the guild, he ought t’ be able to handle it,” Tolu said, his voice low and gravelly. He turned his burning eyes to Thancred. “And here he is, safe an’ sound.” Tolu spat the words, glaring up at him.

The Captain frowned. “Ye should go home, Thancred. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Can’t,” he said. “I’m here t’ report a violation o’ the Code.”

A murmur rippled through the room, wondering what he was up to. The Captain raised a thin, dark green brow.

Thancred crossed his arms as he looked down at Tolu. “Ye wanna play cat ’n’ mouse, that’s fine; I’ve proven tonight I can take yer games. But ye cloyed somethin’ that belongs t’ me, and that I won’t abide.”

The murmur grew louder. Thancred wasn’t an official guild member yet, but as good as, and anyroad, still a fellow Limsan. Messing with each other was one thing; biting someone else’s personals in the process was crossing lines.

The Captain’s eyes narrowed further. “Yer already on some damned thin ice with me, Tolu, ‘tween this an’ yer other nonsense. If ye took somethin’ as part of this game, give it back. Now.”

A few people in the room took steps back at her tone. Hells, Thancred wanted to get away; he had never heard her like this. What else had Tolu been doing? Then again, Thancred probably didn’t want to know.

The lalafell sneered. “What makes ye think I got it on me? Mebbe I already dropped it in the sea with the rest o’ the flotsam.”

“Tolu,” the Captain warned.

“Make me,” he said, glaring at her.

The tension in the room sharpened. Thancred had the distinct feeling of being caught in a situation brewing for far longer than his training with the guild. He was simply an excuse for an inevitable conflict to finally come to a head.

The Captain moved first, and faster. Tolu wasn’t quite able to block her, taking a long gash across his chest, but with his smaller frame he quickly ducked in under her defenses. She hissed as he sliced the back of her calf, her blood joining his on the floor. She dropped one of her stabbers, caught him by the arm, and threw him against the far wall. His breath left him with a loud “whuff!” and he hit the ground hard, looking up to glare—and grin.

The Captain took a step toward him and fell to her knees, sweat breaking out over her skin as she started to shake. “Ye little shite…”

“Yer done, ye moldy mort,” Tolu said as he got back up with only a little wobbling. “I’m done takin’ orders from ye.” He dashed forward, blades ready to slice open her throat.

Thancred’s daggers blocked him. “I’m not,” he said cheerfully. “Hardly sportin’, but I guess ye gotta--” Gods _dammit_ , his voice just had to crack high right then didn’t it? “--get yer rep as a right bastard somehow.”

“Thancred, get the hell outta there!” Lonwoerd shouted from somewhere off to the side.

Thancred didn’t answer. He tightened his grip on his stabbers and narrowed his eyes at Tolu, trying not to hear the Captain gasping behind him as Bochard dove for her with antidotes in hand.

Tolu laughed. “Ye want to dance, lad, let’s see if ye got what it takes to be in _my_ thieves’ guild.”

“It ain’t yers yet,” Thancred answered. He watched Tolu, not daring to move until—there!

He leapt aside as Tolu flung a knife, defending himself as Tolu rushed in to stab his kidneys. The lalafell growled as he was blocked, and fell back on the defensive as Thancred’s daggers flashed at him.

Thancred had realized earlier he was, perhaps, a bit faster than Tolu, and certainly had more reach. He used that to keep Tolu pressed back, until there wasn’t anywhere else to push—damn. He cursed himself for falling for the trick.

Tolu ducked under Thancred's slash and jumped onto a table, then up against the wall, leaping off it to come at Thancred from above and the side, faster than he could blink. He dodged the barrage of narrow throwing daggers--they caught his clothes, mostly, though he briefly registered a sharp pain on his foot--and just barely managed to protect his throat from Tolu’s main blade, catching a glimpse of the poison’s sheen on the metal. Now Thancred was on the defensive, trying not to let Tolu nick his skin.

Through it all, unlike many pirate crews, the gathered thieves stayed mostly quiet. At most a dull murmur rolled through the crowd like the ebb and flow of the sea at tide change. That was what was happening, Thancred knew distantly; most of the thieves supported the Captain, but some were of Tolu’s mind, and whatever happened here was going to have lasting repercussions.

That was a bit more pressure than he had been expecting when he had walked in the door tonight. Too late to go back on it now, and something to think more on when he didn’t have an opponent trying to slice him into ribbons. He had to end this soon, as there would not be a later, not against this enemy.

It was funny, really, how calm and detached he felt, even as his heart raced and his limbs burned trying to keep up with Tolu’s strikes. Everything seemed to just sharpen into focus, and _there_ was the opening he was waiting for.

Thancred caught Tolu’s main arm in his own, bending it up and back. He twisted behind the lalafell, out of reach of his offhand, and forced Tolu’s own stabber into the man’s cheek. Tolu shrieked, more in rage than pain, blood spurting over them both.

Thancred cloyed back his notebook--tucked in the fellow’s jacket pocket--then kicked Tolu away. Thancred simply stood there, panting and shaking, keenly aware now of how far he had pushed to survive that fight. He vaguely heard the slightly louder sounds of shock from the crowd. He hoped he wouldn’t puke, piss himself, or even just fall over from the relieved fear in front of them all; it would make his extremely lucky victory far less impressive.

Tolu yanked the knife from his face, more blood spurting. One of his cronies hurried over, but he batted them away. He turned his head to glower at Thancred, one hand over the wound, blood discolored from the poison. “Think I wouldn’t take antidote fer me own bile?”

Thancred shrugged. “Did ye think the guild wouldn’t have any on hand?” He replied, pointing his thumb to where the Captain was shakily getting to her feet with Bochard and Slaeroega’s help. She glared at Tolu.

He sneered back. “To the seven hells with alla ye.” He looked up at Thancred. “Enjoy your lil’ victory here, boy. Ye’ll learn ye shoulda finished the job properly.” Tolu turned and stalked away, a half dozen others following him out.

“Well that was somethin’,” Thancred said as the doors clanked shut behind them.

“Yer a bloody fool,” the Captain said.

He looked at her and shrugged. “Yeah, but yer alive.”

“Thank ye. Don’t do that again.”

“As ye wish.” He wanted to bow, but if he tried anything fancy right now, he was like to fall face first to the deck.

Bochard shook his head. "He’s gonna lick his wounds, but ye can bet him and his lackeys are gonna try somethin’."

“So what are we doin’, Cap’n?” Slaeroega asked.

“Changin’ out the entryways, fer one. Lettin’ the pirate crews know Tolu and his friends ain’t welcome fer another. I don’t wanna hunt ‘em down, but we may not get a choice.” She took a few breaths, then looked at Thancred. “Ye should go check on yer gang.”

A chill ran down Thancred’s spine. He nodded.

“Ye should lay low fer a bit,” she continued. “I dunno that we can protect ye, when he gets it in his head fer a rematch. Which’ll likely be an ambush.”

“...I think I can keep outta Tolu’s way.”

She nodded. “Bochard, get all this—“

“Already on it, Cap’n. Get to bed.” He turned to Thancred. “Go, make sure V’lenne ‘n’ the rest are safe.”

Thancred left the Sisters. No need to be careful this time; he simply ran, weaving over the docks and through the streets and their late night crowds. He wasn’t even sure what he would do if Tolu or his friends were there. He could worry on that if it became an issue.

The outside of the hideout looked as it normally did, dark and quiet, unobtrusive. He did proceed with caution from here, slipping inside through one of the side entrances.

Thancred knew they were gone immediately. Important items and dear treasures were missing, sure, but more than that was the still, empty quality of rooms with no occupants. He was alone.

He cast about, but there were no hints or messages left in the main room, nor the room he had shared with the other boys, or the girls’ room. He finally went to V’lenne’s space. The mat, blanket, and her small lidless chest were all gone. There was a scrap of paper folded into a tent by the wall she liked to lean on. He bent down to pick it up. V’lenne had godsawful handwriting, and even worse spelling.

_“if u r alife wate i wil find u thru sisters.”_

Thancred slumped against the wall, clutching her note. He knew she couldn’t risk Tolu returning--there was no way she could protect Feli and all the younger gang members, not from the lalafell and those who had followed. And that little bastard would go after his gang, to get to him. This was the smart decision.

Thancred wasn’t going to cry about it and everything else that had happened tonight. Definitely not.

He ran a hand over his face to prove it, and considered his options. He could not stay here alone. The Sisters were in an uproar and Tolu would look for him there. There was only one other place Thancred could think of in his current state of mind, as ridiculous an idea as it seemed.

He pushed himself off the wall and left the former hideout. Mayhap the next folks who found it would treat it well.

Thancred turned his still-bare feet toward the Mizzenmast.


	6. Provisioning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rest and recovery the day after confrontation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait! This was a difficult one; got long and rambly, Thancred's being a cranky teenager in more ways than one...bridge chapters, man. Next one should go more smoothly.

He awoke to the quiet murmur of conversation and the scent of hot food--eggs, meats, some other things, too, but those were strongest. He heard the chink of a spoon against porcelain as someone stirred tea. The morning light was still a hazy gold coming through the windows.

It took Thancred a moment to recall where he was, and then the why. He resisted the urge to sit up, and instead tried to listen in on the Sharlayans’ breakfast conversation.

“You really think you can get it all done in a day?” Yda was asking.

“Two would be better,” Papalymo said. “But if it is a matter of haste, one is...doable. We shan’t return until rather late this evening, I think.” He paused to take a sip or a bite, perhaps; the couch Thancred lay upon was not facing the breakfast nook. “Do you really think it is safe to leave him here all that time?”

“We both must go, if we are to fulfill our obligations to the Admiral, and finish the work today,” Louisoix said in his low, soothing voice. “If the Twelve are good, this Tolu has no idea where Thancred is, but we cannot keep him hidden here for long. With Yda, he should be safe enough, and tomorrow, we shall be in the countryside--hopefully out of this man’s reach.”

“I almost hope he does show up,” Yda grumbled. “I’d like to punch him into the sea, he sounds awful.”

“Calm, Yda,” Papalymo said. “There are circumstances outside our knowledge or control; we can but offer the boy what help we are able.”

Thancred briefly wondered if the grumpy thaumaturge had been struck in the head.

“I know,” she said. “Speaking of, should we wake him? He ought to eat.”

“Set some aside for now, and let him rest,” Louisoix said. “Be sure to have food brought up as well for dinner and supper. I would rather minimize the risks of him being seen yet.”

“Right.”

“You are going to be terribly bored, I fear,” Papalymo said. Was he teasing her?

“Bah! We’ll be fine. If it gets too boring, we’ll just go through your things!”

“You had better not!”

Louisoix hushed them while trying to keep his own laughter quiet.

Thancred smiled a little too, though it faded quickly as he thought over the conversation. They were changing everything they had planned...for him? What had he done to deserve it? It was more work for Louisoix and Papalymo, and Yda wasn’t one to stay cooped up all day, babysitting him. His panicked decision to run here had done done nothing but cause inconvenience and possibly bring real trouble to these ridiculously _nice_ people.

He thought of getting up and leaving, but he was still so damned sore, and shaky, and tired, and the arrangement of pillows and blankets was rather comfortable and warm…

Thancred drifted back to sleep.

_Flashes of too-brief light assaulted his vision, faces of his friends, both in the gang and from the guild--even the Sharlayans--caught in moments of fear and pain, eyes glassy and sightless, Tolu’s poison eating away at their bodies while Thancred struggled to get through the water to them in time, but he was running out of air and there was so much pressure, a great heartbeat reverberating all around as he swam through a sea made of blood…_

“Hey,” Yda’s voice pulled him out of sleep again, the disturbing images fading away in the late morning light. “Sorry; I know you must be tired, but I didn’t think you’d want to sleep all the way to noon. Didn’t seem like the best sleep, anyway.”

“It’s noon?” He muttered, rubbing sleep dirt out of his eyes.

“Well, no, not yet. More like half past ten bells.”

“Oh. Well, that’s fine.”

”Hungry? We saved some breakfast for you.”

He thought about it. “No, but that probably means I really should eat somethin’. First, though, where’s the head?”

She blinked, taking a moment. “Oh! The lavatory, you mean. Through there.” She pointed to a door.

“Great.” He started to get up, then recalled he was only in his smallclothes; he had dropped his shirt and pants off to the side to reduce how much filth he got on the blankets they had draped over the couch. He looked down, but the familiar rags were not where he had left them. “Uh. Where’re my clothes?”

“Getting washed. They should be dry soon. Shall I go hide in my room to preserve your modesty?”

He snorted, and wrapped the sheet around him. “More worried ‘bout yers,” he shot back with the cheekiest grin he could summon up. Not his best, he knew, but she giggled and helped him stand. He was far less steady than usual, but he shrugged off her hand and made it to the lavatory without her aid.

“Take all the time you need; there’s a shower in there, too,” she called as he closed the door. “And a robe that you can wear in the meantime.”

A sink, a commode, and a shower stall, and just enough space to stand and shift between them. Still, it was far more luxurious than he was used to by a long shot, and he took his time, first hand-washing his shorts--may as well if the rest was getting cleaned--and after a short time spent puzzling it out, he took a shower. He did not want to ask Yda for help, and reveal he had never used such a contraption before.

Twelve have mercy, that was amazing. It was even hot. He stood under the falling water for a long while, before finally using soap to clean himself, and then stood under the warm spray some more. The temperature was starting to cool before he finally shut it off and dried, finding the robe she had mentioned. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so clean.

“Don’t get used to it,” he reminded himself in the foggy mirror. This wasn’t going to last; the Sharlayans were only around for a brief time and then…Well. He could worry about that later. Maybe Tolu would be bored by then, or better yet, gone off to another city, if the Upright Thieves ran him out of Limsa.

Thancred ran his fingers through his hair, tied the robe’s belt tightly, and stepped out of the lavatory finally.

Yda was sitting in the armchair, reading. She looked up as he entered and smiled. “You look much better. Nice long baths--or showers, I guess--always help after a rough night,” she said. “Your clothes are back, clean and dry, if you wanted to get dressed.”

“In a bit,” he said. “Uh, y’said there was food…?”

Yda nodded and gestured to the little table in the breakfast nook. “What we saved from breakfast, and lunch should be up by the first afternoon bell. Help yourself.” She turned a page in her book and settled back in.

They had certainly saved quite a bit; not only were there eggs, sausage, bacon, and popotos (all cooled, but that was all right), but fresh fruit and soft muffins, and someone had remembered he liked orange juice. Despite himself, he ate everything, until his stomach actually complained about being too full for once. He leaned back in the chair and sighed.

“How’re you feeling now?” Yda asked.

“Stuffed. Yer spoilin’ me,” he turned to grin at her.

She shook her head. “If this is spoiled, then I’ve been living rather decadently these past two years.” Her expression settled into a more serious one. “Master Louisoix didn’t tell us all the details, you know; just a summary, so we know things got pretty bad, and there’s someone nasty who might try to hurt you. You and I are going to stay here today, so you can rest and recover from whatever happened, while Master Louisoix and Papalymo finish their work on the aethernet. If they can get it done today, we’ll head out to the countryside tomorrow.”

That matched everything he had overheard this morning, so far. Thancred nodded. “It’s too bad; I wanted to introduce ye to V’lenne. She’s the best scrapper on the docks.” He frowned and looked down at his hands. They seemed scarred and rough against the soft fabric of the robe, but at least they were clean. “Dunno where she’s gone with the others, though. Maybe I’ll find her when we come back to the city, once yer work’s done.”

“That sounds nice,” Yda replied, and he felt like she meant it. “Oh, by the way,” she continued. “I couldn’t find your shoes.”

“Uh, don’t have any right now. Lost ‘em, durin’ everything.”

“Hrm. Well that won’t do. All right, I shall add it to the list.”

“List?”

“Yeah,” She actually did pick up a pen and jot something on paper on the small table next to the armchair, but did not offer more information. “You at least have your notebook though, right? That’s on the stand by the couch. I have been dying to see what you’ve got in there, but I of course couldn’t open it without your permission, and after yesterday, well, do you have any stories or poems to share?”

He took a minute to process her request. “Um. Maybe? Most of it’s drafts I haven’t really cleaned up…”

“I’m sure they’re great. Certainly better than I can do!”

His notebook was on the stand between the armchair and couch, looking hideously out of place with how tattered and worn it was compared to everything else in the room. It did not belong--much like its owner.

“...Maybe later,” he said. “What’re ye readin’?”

“Some ridiculously over the top romance. I got it from an Ishgardian trader before we left Sharlayan, for this trip.”

“Any good?”

“Gods, no. But that just makes it funny. Here, check this out…”

They read the book together—it really was awful, full of purple prose and stilted conversations—laughing over the terrible descriptions until lunch was delivered as the chronometers chimed a single bell. Yda spoke to the porter, handing him the list she had been making notes on, and some gil, while Thancred finally got dressed in his freshly cleaned clothes.

It was terribly apparent how worn and stained they were, after laundering. Not to mention how the cuffs of his pants no longer quite reached his ankles; the same could be said of his shirt sleeves and wrists. Well, no helping that, and at least the clothes were clean. He returned to the main room to sit down for dinner. Thancred didn’t think he would be hungry after stuffing himself only two bells ago, but he managed to finish his plate, keeping up with Yda.

The rest of the afternoon passed similarly. She showed him a couple of history books Louisoix had brought along so he could attempt to understand some things about Limsa Lominsa, but also about another nation that used to exist on Vylbrand, called Nym. Thancred found that one fascinating, so when the porters returned with the items from Yda’s list, as well as supper, he barely noticed, already engrossed in its pages.

“Hey, think you can take a break long enough to eat?” She asked, setting aside some of the food for Louisoix and Papalymo later.

“Huh? Oh yeah, sorry.” He found the ribbon used to mark the page and closed the book, handling it carefully.

“No need to apologize, really, I’m used to bookworms. Oh, so, you have new shoes, and a new set of clothes for the trip to the countryside. Master Louisoix said for you to consider any needed items as part of the fee for your services. I just hope it all fits; I was guessing, mostly.”

Thancred blinked. “I...uh...what?”

“The idea is if you’re working for us, you ought to be in clothes suited for rambling about the countryside, not to mention that fit you--you look like you had a growth spurt recently and were needing new clothes as it is. And well, the state you showed up in was...worrisome. Doubt the men looking for you will expect it, either.”

“Well, I mean, yes, but…”

“Great! If you want to try them on after supper, or wait ‘til morning, that’s fine,” she said, before digging in to her food.

He stared at her for a long moment, feeling heat on his cheeks. He grit his teeth and ate his own food, lest he say something he would regret later. The charity was galling enough--even if it was being passed off as part of his wage--but the presumption he would be willing to be dressed like some child’s doll, unable to choose for himself, that really stuck. Hells, he knew better than they did what worked around here, and what to avoid.

He retreated back into the history book after dinner. If Yda realized he was in a foul mood, she didn’t show it as she made sure various items were packed and ready to go for the next morning. He did look up when he heard her giggle; she was ever-so-slightly adjusting the position of some of Papalymo’s possessions, in the alcove where the lalafell had been sleeping. She caught Thancred’s eye and winked as she picked up what looked like a journal and simply set it, front cover down, on the thaumaturge’s pillow instead of the nightstand.

Thancred couldn’t help but grin back; Yda’s smile was just like that, and her messing with her friend in such a simple way _was_ pretty amusing.

It was well after the ninth evening bell when Louisoix and Papalymo entered, obviously tired. Yda leapt to her feet--she had been doing some light exercises in the corner--to greet them. “Long, boring day here, happy to say,” she told them, even as Louisoix began to ask. “We saved some supper, once you’ve washed up.” She threw a meaningful glower at Papalymo, who paused in his path to the table, turned on his heel, and headed for the washroom.

Louisoix chuckled wearily and turned to Thancred. “How are you feeling?”

“Better’n last night,” Thancred answered. “Haven’t had a day to loaf like this in awhile, though I think I bored Yda to tears.”

“Aw, don’t believe that; we had a good time. Thancred is a _scathing_ literary critic,” she said.

“Not that those terrible books you rot your mind with have much literary value,” Papalymo snorted as he returned from the wash. “Please tell me the boy at least has that much sense--and better taste.”

“A good romance has its place,” Thancred said. “It just happened the one Yda had was...not good.” He shared a smile with her. Papalymo huffed.

Louisoix chuckled. “It does seem you have found more substantial reading material.”

Thancred looked down at the history book. “It...passed the time.”

“Good, good,” Louisoix said, looking pleased through the fatigue of the day’s effort. He stepped away to wash up.

Thancred scowled to himself. On the one hand, he liked that old scholar was happy at his interest in Nym’s history. On the other, Thancred wanted to remember he was still angry. He thought about setting the book aside out of spite...except he really didn’t want to, especially since it was discussing Nym’s relationships with two other ancient city-states back on the mainland and there was probably going to be details of war between them in the next chapter.

In the end, Thancred kept reading; it was interesting, and made ignoring people easy as the men ate and told Yda about their day.

"The haste was worthwhile, as we came up with a few new techniques to speed things along in the future." Louisoix said as he sat back in his chair. "Tomorrow we shall leave bright and early, so we should all get some rest. Did the new clothes arrive for our young friend?”

“Yes,” Yda said, though listening from behind his book, Thancred heard her hesitation. Maybe she had caught on after all. He sunk lower into the couch and kept reading. “You’re right, I should turn in.” Thancred heard her come over, and then her hand ruffled his hair. He thought about protesting, but she again reminded him of V’lenne in one of the Seeker’s friendlier moods. “Don’t stay up all night reading, all right? Save some for tomorrow! G’night.”

He muttered a reply, which she seemed to accept before heading to her room. Papalymo made a frustrated noise and she laughed--he must have seen her adjustments to his things--and they both vanished into the small side room Yda slept in, where they started loudly arguing behind the door.

Louisoix chuckled. He sat on the armchair, just within Thancred’s field of view past the book covers. “I see you’re engrossed, but if I might interrupt for a moment. I apologize for having you cooped up all day.”

Thancred grunted in reply. He was having trouble focusing on the words in front of him.

The older man waited. “Thancred, is something wrong?”

He scowled and looked up. “I didn’t mind bein’ stuck here--Yda’s good company, and it’s the nicest place I’ve been fer awhile…” He hesitated, marking his place and closing the book. Why did the man have to look so damned patient and understanding? His anger was starting to feel stupid and childish. Which meant it probably was.

“But?” Louisoix urged gently.

“I didn’t come fer the charity, or to have things chosen for me, or to...to be one of yer students or servants or whatever they are…” He realized his voice was starting to raise, and it had cracked again, pitching high and _godsdammit_ , he was more embarrassed now than angry.

“My apologies,” Louisoix said.

“What?”

“I apologize,” Louisoix repeated. “I saw a need and thought only to fix it, as I would for my own children, or my students, should they come to me in the state you did last night. But you are right; I overstepped, and should have asked, rather than assumed. It shan’t happen again.”

Thancred stared at Louisoix for a long moment. The man seemed genuine. He took his time figuring out a response. “Um. All right. So we’re clear, then.”

Louisoix smiled. “‘Twould seem so. Now, shall I have those things returned? We can take a bit of time tomorrow if need be.”

Thancred thought about it, and shook his head. “Nah, I mean--y’meant well, and I do need shoes, at least...and I guess the rest is all right. ‘Sides, I’ve held everyone up enough as it is.”

“You are not being troublesome, if that is your concern,” Louisoix said. “You are helping us, so it is only fair we render some aid as needed in return.”

“Yeah, but yer already payin’ me fer my help.”

Louisoix shrugged. “Which means you are in my employ, and I would be remiss not to assist you. But please, believe me when I say there is naught to be concerned about. Tomorrow we shall leave the city, and be gone for several days. From what you said last night, Tolu shall hopefully be removed from consideration by your colleagues by the time we return.”

“That’s the plan, anyway,” Thancred said. “The Cap’n told me to lay low, but I doubt any of ‘em expect me to leave the city entirely. And if Tolu is out lookin’, better chance of the others findin’ him first. Good thing, too; I dunno that I’ll get so lucky again.”

Papalymo re-emerged from Yda’s room, looking resigned. She waved cheerfully before closing her door again, while the lalafell headed for his own alcove. “Pardon my interruption, but is there aught else you require, Master Louisoix?”

Louisoix shook his head. “No thank you, Papalymo; get your rest, you more than earned it.”

Papalymo nodded and retired. Louisoix turned back to Thancred. “You as well, lad, though it may feel as though you did naught today. As Yda said, may want to save some of that reading for another time.”

Thancred looked at the history book. “I never knew ‘bout Nym before. Funny to think there was a whole other nation here long ‘fore Limsa.”

“You are enjoying the reading?” Louisoix asked.

Thancred nodded. “Yeah; definitely more interestin’ than that book Yda had.” Behind him somewhere, Papalymo made a small noise, possibly a victorious scoff. Thancred smirked, and Louisoix chuckled quietly.

“Very well. I shall be interested in hearing your thoughts, once you have finished the book.” Louisoix stood. “For now, it is time to put these old bones to bed. Have a good evening, Thancred.”

He set the book on the stand, settling onto the couch as Louisoix dimmed the lights and retired. The mages must have been wiped out, given how late the fellow had sat up the night before.

Accepting the charity he had been offered still felt strange, but as Louisoix had said, he was working for the Sharlayans, and so a level of provision was to be expected. He could tell himself that, for now. Count his fortune, not look the gift chocobo in the mouth, all that rubbish.

Tomorrow would be a whole new adventure, he told himself as he waited for sleep. Tomorrow, he would start to truly earn his keep and what he had been given.


	7. Pastoral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even the countryside has its dangers, as Thancred gets to know one of his new companions a little better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm the worst at updating; new job and other distractions only leave me so much time!

Thancred found he liked not being in the city--for some things. The wide open meadows with their malms of windswept grasses let him breathe freely in a way he never had before. While he could still smell the familiar salty foam of the sea, it was less immediate than in a city built upon an archipelago and woven together with decks and rigging. It was a cleaner scent, of open ocean instead of the stagnant waters under Limsa. The world felt dryer and far less mildewy than the lower docks could often get, especially during the rainier seasons when there was no escaping the wet.

Far fewer people, too, which was a mixed blessing. Less noise, less crowding, but fewer opportunities to slip away or cloy a purse. Not that he had to at the moment, but it seemed like good practice, regardless. He may feel more exposed, but he knew the Thieves often had to work outside the city, particularly when slavers were trying to slip some poor coves past the guild and their stabbers.

He also just liked people, and variety, and access to all the options the city’s markets had to offer. Wineport had precious little variety, besides perhaps in wine.

“Let me see if I have this straight,” Yda was saying. “Vylbrand is the whole island.”

“Correct,” Papalymo answered.

“La Noscea is the land the thalassocracy claims,” she continued.

“Correct,” Papalymo said again.

“And anything near, or past, that big mountain to the north, isn’t part of La Noscea?”

Papalymo nodded. “I am impressed. You actually were paying attention.”

“Not really. I asked Thancred before you could test me.”

Papalymo sighed heavily. Thancred grinned and gave Yda a thumbs-up. “Ain’t too hard to keep track,” he said. “Past the few settlements, there’s mostly qiqirn, kobolds, and fishbacks.”

“You mean sahagin, yeah?” Yda asked.

Thancred shrugged. “Most of ‘em don’t come close to land, but they do sometimes. I dunno why; it’s not like they come near Limsa itself.” He wondered now if he would actually get to see one of the beast men; qiqirn traders were not entirely unusual, and he had seen a kobold once. A few goblins, too. Sahagin, though, were actually dangerous and often hostile to men.

“Hopefully, we shall avoid the beast tribes,” Louisoix said evenly, squinting as he stepped into the sunlight where the trio waited. “It would be unwise to antagonize them. However, we have two promising leads for our research, so it may be best to split up.”

“You believe that is wise?” Papalymo asked.

“This is a relatively safe region, and no recent troubles on the road. Yda and I shall explore the jungle to the southwest. Papalymo and Thancred, what we are seeking ought to be further southeast along the shore for you to find.”

Thancred nodded, stealing a glance at Papalymo. The lalafell had his arms crossed and eyes closed, thinking. He finally opened his eyes and sighed. “Very well, Master Louisoix. Come along, lad.”

Yda waved as they walked out of the little town, past the rows and rows and rows of vines and the people tending to them. Papalymo said nothing as they passed through rolling fields and meadows that eventually gave way to sand and the reassuring roar of the incoming tide.

“Y’know why it’s called Bloodshore, right?” Thancred asked after a full bell had gone by with nothing said between them. They were walking along low bluffs that stood between the fields and the sand dunes that led to the beach.

“Hrm? Oh, no, I suppose it has to do with reflections of light on the water and sand at sunrise and sunset, or somesuch?”

Thancred shook his head. “Nah, that’d be too poetic fer pirates. Was a battle, lotta years back; some of the old timers talk ‘bout it still. The League o’ Lost Bastards took on Mistbeard himself--they call ‘im the pirate king, and some folks think he’s immortal, which sounds like a lotta rot--anyroad, the battle was so bad four whole galleys were sunk, leavin’ hundreds o’ corpses, and their blood, stainin’ the sands. Most of ‘em were lost with the outgoin’ tide.”

“How perfectly violent,” Papalymo said dryly. After a brief pause, he looked up at Thancred. “Who won?”

“Battle that bad, and enough dead to change this whole strand’s name, can’t rightly say there was one, can ye?” Thancred said, looking out over the white sands on the horizon below. They were still far enough away that it was difficult to see where the land ended and the water began, and he could barely hear the surf yet. He tried to imagine what the aftermath of that fight had looked like, his mind painting the sands a rusted crimson and imagining the rotten stench of that many bodies left in the hot La Noscean sun. He made a face and turned back to his erstwhile companion, who seemed to be studying him thoughtfully. Thancred looked away again, uncomfortable with the thaumaturge’s gaze. “And besides, both crews’re still runnin’. Folks thought Mistbeard done fer sure after that, but then he showed up again. Really crazy rumors say he even gave Cap’n Merlwyb use of his own guns fer her duel with the former cap’n of the League of Lost Bastards--her own father.”

“Are you saying one of the pirate captains killed her own father to assume command?”

Thancred shrugged. “Rumor also says ol’ Bloefhis was makin’ deals with the fishbacks. If she didn’t get to him, then...well, he’d have been dealt with. Probably better she did it, if those rumors’re true.”

“‘Taken care of’ by the...organization you belong to, I take it?”

Thancred shrugged uncomfortably, and glanced around out of habit. They were on a wide-open road, with not another soul in sight. He was malms further from Limsa than he had ever been, yet part of him still feared the Upright Lady would simply know. Or worse, Bochard. “The Upright Thieves enforce the Code. They’re guidelines, mostly, but there’s only so far they can be bent afore things get too chaotic.”

“And when that happens, you step in?”

“I’m still a potential, though there ain’t much left to keep me out now...once this current mess is cleared up, that is. But yeah, that’s the idea. String up the offenders as a lesson to the next cove what thinks he can get away with cheatin’ his fella Lominsans. The real bad ‘un’s, though, the guild’s best’ll make quick work of with a knife in the darkmans.”

“And what, precisely, constitutes ‘the worst’ to pirates who abide patricide as a means of advancement?”

“Slavers,” Thancred said shortly. “We’re descended from them that escaped that life to start with. Folk who forget that bit o’ history become part of it. There’s no tyin’ from a yardarm and hopin’ the lesson’s learned for them that trade in people. Just a stab ‘twixt the ribs, neat as you please, and not a tear shed over it.”

“I see.” Papalymo said. “We are arrived.”

Thancred looked around. They were on a small hill overlooking a curve of the land, the beach below, sandbars barely visible on the edge of his vision. The water looked bright blue and inviting from here.

“So, explain again what it is we’re doin’ here?”

Papalymo took out a few esoteric tools and some sort of monitor from the bag he carried--it could not have all fit inside, and yet he managed somehow. Sharlayan magic, no doubt. “We are measuring aetheric currents--make yourself useful and hold this please, yes, just like that, thank you--to determine nodal effects on local regions and populations.”

“And if all the studyin’ shows it’s good, then it’s safe to put more aetherytes up, yeah?” Thancred asked, holding an antenna while Papalymo fiddled with dials and measuring some sort of thick blue liquid he seemed to be trying to make balance properly in tubes along the monitor’s surface.

“That’s right. You seem to catch onto such things faster than Yda, at least. She requires a few repetitions and explanations of each step to understand.” He paused, and looked out over the water. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course; she just learns differently, and has other interests besides. I am afraid I simply haven’t the patience, most days. ‘Tis why I shall never be a teacher.”

“I dunno, you still keep tryin’ to explain, and I think she does get it from yer words easier than Master Louisoix,” Thancred said. “He can forget not everyone understands all his hundred gil words, ‘specially when he uses ‘em all in a row without pause and just moves on to the next topic.”

Papalymo made a thoughtful grunt as he listened and worked at the same time. “He is an excellent teacher--but yes, he does sometimes go into lecture mode, and forgets not all of his students have been studying advanced aetheric theory since they were tots. Ah, here we go. You can put that in the sand there.”

Thancred nodded and stuck the end of the antenna in the ground. The hill ran down to the beach, the ground comprised of sand mixing with the gravel and dirt of the meadows stretching toward the rivers and the jungle where Yda and Louisoix were working. He wondered if they were having any luck.

“I’m gonna look around a little while you do that,” he said. Papalymo nodded absently and waved him off.

Thancred walked several yalms away, avoiding the beach, more interested in the meadows. Insects buzzed, birds chirped, and a breeze blew across the open fields. Even the wind sounded different, here in the open with room to play, instead of funneled through the city streets.

He saw some evidence of a camp in the hollow formed by the curve of the hill; judging from the way the sand and vegetation grew around the rocky base, the hollow was decently sheltered from the worst of wind and rain off the sea.

Thancred was poking his dagger at the remnants of the camp--had it been men, kobolds, qiqirn?--when he heard Papalymo shout. There was a pressure in the air, and then the explosive sound and light of a fireball on the hill above. Thancred ran for the path that led him back up.

The thaumaturge was surrounded by ugly brown aureliae; Bloodshore Bells, Thancred thought he had heard someone say to the innkeep at Wineport. Thancred did not hesitate, drawing his throwing knives and sending three of them into the nearest Bell. The creature shrieked and flailed, its barbed tentacles striking one of its fellows instead of the lalafell.

Papalymo took the opportunity to summon a hailstorm upon the creatures. The one Thancred had hit, and one of the toastier ones, fell to the ground. There were still three left. One of them lashed out, wrapping a tentacle around Papalymo’s arm. The mage cried out.

Thancred leapt in, past the waving tentacles, and sliced through the spongy limb holding Papalymo, freeing him. “No snackin’ today!” Thancred scolded the wavekin, making another slice. He didn’t take off another tentacle, but the thing spurted plenty of blood and shrieked as its fellow had. Its remaining tentacles flailed and tried to wrap themselves around him, but Thancred danced out of reach, throwing another dagger at the thing’s bulbous head.

He could hear Papalymo behind him, and feel the aether concentrating around them as the mage prepared another spell. “Gather them together!” he called to Thancred.

“Easily done!” He replied. Sure. While not getting cut or stung in the process.

He threw knives at the other two to get their attention; he was out of smaller throwing knives now, this was going to get trickier until he could retrieve some. As the first lashed out again, Thancred leapt and rolled under and past it, whirling as he came up on his feet to cross cut the thing. It was almost dead, he thought, but the other two were on him now.

A tentacle wrapped around his upper arm, piercing through the sleeve of his new shirt and _bugger_ , that stung. His free arm was still able to keep the third at bay, while the heavily injured one made a weird hiss and came limping through the air toward him.

“Uh, Papalymo? Any time now!”

Lightning crackled, making all of Thancred’s hair stand on end. The Bells shrieked, their flesh crisped, and by all the hells that stunk. The one gripping his arm let go, at least, as it tried to flee. The other two flopped to the ground, their billowy heads now splayed and deflating across the sandy grasses.

“Oh no ye don’t!” Thancred leapt and stabbed at the last one, finishing it off. He caught his breath and looked at the stinking pile of jellies now littering the hill. “Well. That was bracin’.”

“Good show,” Papalymo said, hooking his staff in place on his back. “Are you hurt?’

Thancred pushed his sleeve up to examine the wound the Bell had left. “Stings pretty bad, but I don’t think it had me long enough fer lastin’ harm. How ‘bout yerself?”

“I am fine, thank you,” Papalymo replied. “You’re quite skilled with those blades.”

“Thanks. That’s the goal.” Thancred bent down to retrieve his throwing knives. Now that he thought about it, the time out here would be a real good time to practice with those. He recalled Tolu’s distracting leap from their duel, and wondered if he could pull such maneuvers off better than that little psychopath. “Yer magic was pretty impressive too,” he told the thaumaturge, grinning as he ran a hand through his hair, still sticking up from the electric in the air.

Papalymo chuckled. “Yes, worked out rather well in the end. And fits my data; the aureliae were drawn to the aetheric density and the current I created in the course of testing.”

“Oh, well, good to know it wasn’t a waste of time,” Thancred joked. He watched as Papalymo gathered bits of the Bells, putting them into jars that disappeared into his cavernous bag. “Uh, what’re ye doin’?”

“Some of these parts will make excellent components for alchemy,” Papalymo explained. Thancred nodded; it made sense.

They packed up the testing equipment and began the return trek to Wineport. “You’re quite young, aren’t you?” Papalymo said abruptly.

Thancred frowned. “I’m nearly fifteen winters.” For some value of the word ‘nearly.’

“Ah, my apologies,” Papalymo replied. “And really, not too much younger than Yda when she fought alongside her father against the Mad King.” He looked up at Thancred as they walked. “You have trained with those daggers for awhile, then?”

“Couple years now, yeah,” he admitted. “But only got to really know what I was doin’ the last few moons, since trainin’ properly.” He looked down at Papalymo. “How ‘bout yer archon studies? That musta took some work, to learn to cast spells like that, and then prove to be a master at it.”

“It is a touch more detailed but...well, honestly, that is the gist of it,” Papalymo admitted. “My family has been studying the arcane for generations--I am merely the most recent wielder of the Aurifex,” he said, gesturing to the staff on his back. “Like many magically-inclined Sharlayan, I attended the Studium, and graduated second in my class. I began to study under Master Louisoix, and worked with him to assist the Ala Mhigan refugees. Which is, of course, how I met Yda and her sister.”

Thancred nodded and listened as Papalymo told him more of Sharlayan, and the work he had done with the Ala Mhigans. Some of it was a little beyond Thancred’s grasp, but he still strove to remember it; not only could he ask Yda and Louisoix later, but Papalymo had a habit of quizzing his conversation partner later, and Thancred had a strong feeling that did not only apply to Yda and her hyperactive attention span.

Besides, now he had fought alongside the lalafell, which counted for a lot, in his mind. Having spent the day slowly getting to know one another as well, he was finding Yda’s opinion was right; he was starting to like Papalymo. Once you got past the easy annoyance and short temper, the man had a dry, wicked humor and was easy to garner advice and information from.

He also knew quite a bit about food it turned out, particularly traditional dunesfolk cuisine, and by the time they made it back to Wineport, Thancred was craving dark pretzels based solely on Papalymo’s energetic descriptions of how his grandfather used to make such treats.

“There you two are!” Yda exclaimed, relieved. “I was starting to get worried, thought maybe those fishmen had drug you into the sea or something.”

“Nothin’ quite so dramatic; just a few nasty jellyfish decided to mind our business ‘stead o’ their own.”

“Speaking of, we ought to get these stings seen to,” Papalymo said. “I don’t know about you, but mine feels as if on fire.”

“Master Louisoix went to the rooms to write up his notes,” Yda said. “You should let him know.”

Papalymo nodded and with a small wave, walked toward the inn.

Thancred blinked, then recalled Papalymo, too, had been snagged by a tentacle. While his own abrasion itched, he had been released quickly enough. He had not realized Papalymo’s was worse. His estimation of the lalafell rose slightly higher again.

“You were hurt too?” Yda asked him.

“Aw, it’s nothin’, really. A good rinse out and it’ll be fine.” He rolled up the sleeve to show her. Her expression showed she did not agree.

“You really ought to let Master Louisoix take a look at it.”

“Sure, before I turn in,” he said, knowing he would probably forget unless it really started bothering him as he rolled his sleeve back down. He hopped up onto a nearby low wall and sat. “Anything excitin’ fer yer trip into the jungle?”

Yda sat with him. “Mm, no fighting or anything, but we did see a litter of coeurl cubs playing. We didn’t stay long in case their mother returned from the hunt, but oh goodness, the cubs are so _cute_! If they didn’t grow up into large, terrifying monsters, I’d be tempted to take one home to Lyse. She is currently all about the stories of the ancient monk Ivon Couerlfist.”

“Still say she sounds like a handful.”

“She is,” Yda agreed. Then she sighed. “I miss her; as much as I’m enjoying La Noscea, I can’t wait to get home and tell her all about it. If that makes sense.”

Thancred nodded. “I know whatcha mean. I'm tryin’ to make sure I take notes and remember things I wanna tell the rest o’ the gang, when we get back to the city.”

“Have you ever been away from them like this before?”

Thancred shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, it’s been awhile,” he said. “I’ve been with V’lenne’s gang fer a few seasons, and it’s all right, but...She thinks I can do better. S’why she wants me to join the guild.”

“Is it what you want?” Yda asked.

Thancred thought about that. “I don’t have many other options, and it’s the best I’m like to get. Besides, I’m good at bein’ a thief.”

“You are, but that doesn’t mean it’s all you can be. I mean, you’ve got your writing, too. And you can definitely fight.” She paused, and then smiled at him. “Speaking of, thanks for taking care of Papalymo today.”

He shrugged again. “What I’m here for. I did all right, but his spells were somethin’ else.”

“Yeah, he’s a great thaumaturge; he has all sorts of studies and experiments running, always looking to improve his skills. He’s the smartest person I know, even if he drives me crazy by acting like it, y’know?” She released a drawn-out sigh.

Thancred looked at her for a long moment. “What?” Yda finally asked.

He grinned. “I see how it is, then.”

“What? Don’t you start, after only a day with him!”

Thancred laughed. “Ye _like_ him!”

Yda stared at him. “Well. Of course. He’s my friend.” Her cheeks were turning pink.

“Uh-huh,” he replied, smirking.

“Ugh!” Yda rolled her eyes, and lightly punched his shoulder. He pretended to rock with it, more than necessary. “You’re as much a handful as my sister, I swear.”

“Hey, better’n half the pirates on the quay thinkin’ ye were my new girlfriend.”

“Now that is silly, we’ve only just met! You may be cute and all, but sorry, you’re not my type. And too young, besides.”

“Yeah, ye like ‘em all book smart and older, huh?”

“...I am going inside,” she sniffed, her blush only deepening--it had reached her ears now--but she grinned at Thancred. “You should come in, too; supper should be soon, and I bet you’re hungry after all the walking and fending off a pack of aureliae.”

He hopped off the wall to follow. “...Ye still wanna see my poems? I don’t promise they’re good or anything,” he added hastily. He felt a little bad about teasing Yda--mostly, though, he really hoped she _did_ want to see his scrawlings, and more importantly, that she would like them.

She smiled. “I’d love to, Thancred.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yda's such a mom-friend. This is what happens when you're an elder sibling and you make younger friends. But really, given she must have been so much older than Lyse, and responsible for a lot even before Curtis' death (since their mom passed away when Lyse was really little), it makes sense to me. So Yda's just got the big sister vibe pretty instantly with anyone younger, in my little headcanon world.
> 
> Yes I also headcanon a bit of Actual-Yda/Papalymo. It has all the makings of good romantic tragedy and I'm a sucker for that. But it probably won't be a huge deal in this story.


	8. Pharos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As time winds down, Thancred runs into a familiar face, and is given an offer that illuminates a path he never considered before.

The days fell into a pleasant routine; travel to a camp or town in the wilds of La Noscea, let the mages run their tests and experiments, Thancred and Yda would spend some time sparring with both each other and the locals, then they would all retire to the nearest inn, where Thancred would read one of the books he borrowed from one of the Sharlayans, and scribble a few notes about the day, and outline or draft new poems or stories.

_Don’t get used to it,_ he tried to remind himself. He even wrote it in dark, angry letters at the top of his latest journal page. This was a nice diversion, but soon the aetheric research would be done, the possible aetheryte nodes mapped, and the trio would return to their northern city while Thancred would return to the docks and streets of Limsa Lominsa, and hopefully live long enough to become an honest-to-gods Upright Thief.

It was, after all, the best he could expect.

“You have been reading quite a bit,” Louisoix said as he and Thancred trudged into Aleport. He had accompanied the older mage across the valley throughout the day, keeping an eye out for trouble while Louisoix worked. Mostly, though, Thancred had practiced balancing multiple knives on his splayed fingertips while the mage worked.

“Well, Papalymo had books about Amdapor and Mhach, fer cross reference, he said. I liked gettin’ the context, after readin’ ‘bout Nym. And the drama. Those ol’ mages were kinda wild.”

Louisoix chuckled. “Quite. And brought about a Calamity, in their hubris and lack of control as well.”

“We don’t got nothin’ like that these days,” Thancred said. “Least not here on Vylbrand.”

“Perhaps,” Louisoix replied. “But we must needs remain vigilant, lest that changes. And I would not put much beyond the Empire and their ambition.”

Thancred did not have much sense of the scale of Eorzea, just that Ala Mhigo was about as far from Limsa Lominsa as one could get and still be on the continent of Aldenard. It seemed hard to imagine the Garleans stretching their reach across the other nations--yet, according to Yda, the Ala Mhigans had once thought the same.

“I guess if they make it ‘cross the realm,” he said slowly. “Won’t be no place fer pirates. Thieves neither.”

“Rather unlikely,” Louisoix agreed. “The realm should be joining together, as we have in the past, to face a common foe.” He sighed, heavily. “And yet, my own son leads the faction determined to see Sharlayan leave the realm behind. They feel we should observe history, not try to affect it.”

Thancred frowned. “That don’t seem right. Ye’ve got power, and knowledge, why not use it to help the rest?”

“You think we ought to stay and fight?” Louisoix asked. He was using that teacher tone to ask the question; the old priest who had taught Limsa’s poor children had used a similar one, when he already had an answer but wanted to hear his students’ thoughts.

“Well. It just seems silly to say ye can only observe history. Ain’t it people that make history, with what they decide to do, or not do, I s’pose, in the case of yer--whatsit, the Forum, right?”

“Correct,” the elezen responded. Thancred could hear his smile; he was busy keeping an eye on the road, rather than looking at Louisoix.

“I mean, take the pirate crews,” Thancred continued, feeling bold. “Every few years, the biggest and meanest ones get together and fight it out, to see who gets to be Admiral next. If a crew decides to stay home, or gets stuck somewhere out at sea and can’t get there in time, well, they lose their shot that round. Maybe forever, if the Navigator ain’t with ‘em. But who’s Admiral can change a lot fer the city. I guess it’s like that on a grander scale fer the realm.”

“I feel much the same,” Louisoix said warmly. “Perhaps not about violent pirate battles for supremacy, but the concept is not so far off. If we want Eorzea to be a home for all, we must be the ones to create that haven, to guide and protect it. To leave for somewhere nominally safer is a temporary measure at best. Particularly when the threat is an expansionist empire such as Garlemald.”

“Seems like eventually there won’t be nowhere left to run, and all them folks who coulda stood with ye at the beginnin’ would now be ground under heel--or fightin’ fer the enemy.”

“Indeed. ‘Tis why I led the efforts to help the Ala Mhigans. ‘Twas not nearly enough, I fear, but we rescued some few, at least, and have given them a place to call home.”

“I’m glad of it,” Thancred said. “I wouldn’t have met Yda, if ye hadn’t.”

Louisoix chuckled. “Aye, I believe she’s quite fond of you, too. You keep her company when I fear Papalymo and I get….”

“Esoteric?” Thancred offered. He had just discovered the word, and thought it was a good one.

The older man laughed. “I was going to say ‘excited about our studies’ but that works, too.” He hailed the guards at the gates of the port town, and they entered the bustling streets.

Well, bustling for a settlement this size; it was still a far cry from Limsa, to Thancred’s mind. There was a fog rolling in as the sky turned to orange and red, and the great lighthouse across the bay, Pharos Sirius, began to shine.

The pair made their way past stands and shops closing for the evening to the tavern they had agreed to meet at for supper, once all the work was complete. Said tavern was busy, as sailors and tradesmen gathered for food and to get a start on the night’s drinking. Rum doxies flirted with the various men who had blown in; some looking for customers, others simply for a good time. A pretty young redhead caught Thancred’s eye, giving him a wink and he very much considered going over to talk to her, but then Louisoix spoke up.

“I don’t see Papalymo; who is that with Yda?”

Thancred spared a look--and then turned more sharply to look again, the redhead forgotten.

Yda had claimed a table, or tried to, but had found herself garnering the attention of another highlander; a big, rough man with sunburnt skin and shaggy dark hair, who kept leaning far too close to the young woman. Thancred could see Yda struggling to remain civil. She needed to just up and punch him.

“Swivin’ Bern,” Thancred snarled.

Louisoix looked startled at Thancred’s tone, language, or both. “You know that man?”

“Unfortunately,” Thancred said. “V’lenne ran him off, fer bein’ too rough with one o’ ours. Bast--” Thancred bit his lip. “He don’t learn.”

“She can take care of herself,” Louisoix said. “Still, as her friends and colleagues, shall we step in?” He began to stroll across the room to Yda’s table. Thancred followed.

Bern looked up as Louisoix’s shadow fell over the table. “Seat’s taken, old timer.”

“This is my master,” Yda said, voice a cool, calm tone that her eyes and the slight tremble in her shoulders belied. She was at her limit. “Now that my colleagues are arrived, you should go now.” She was using her most posh Sharlayan accent, too. Thancred wanted to hug her.

“Sure ye’d rather not spend a night havin’ some fun, than talkin’ with a crusty ol’ scholar?” Bern crooned, leaning in. Yda leaned away.

“Yer idea of fun isn’t very fer the ladies,” Thancred said, stepping from behind Louisoix. “S’why the Feral ran y’out of town. Shoulda kept runnin’.”

Bern narrowed his eyes as he recognized Thancred. “She sendin’ her brats to harass honest sailors now?” He laughed. “Really, lass, y’can do better than an old man and this thievin’ wharf rat.”

For the first time he could remember, that description made Thancred want to flinch.

“Well this seems uncomfortable. I swear, I leave you alone for just a moment,” Papalymo sighed at Yda as he walked up. “This inn has no accomodations for the evening; I found another that should suit our needs. The clientele is also far more preferable,” he said to Louisoix, utterly ignoring Bern.

Yda got up, and Bern tried to grasp her arm, still laughing and in the process of making a crass joke about the lalafell. She twisted Bern’s wrist, a bone popping out of joint. “You swivin’ bitch!”

“Ye deserve worse,” Thancred said as Yda quickly made her way to Papalymo’s side. “Fer all ye did to Feli. Yda’d give ye a taste of yer own medicine and then some.”

“‘Tis past time we leave,” Louisoix said evenly. Thancred realized he had mostly stayed out of this, observing his students and Thancred. The archon turned toward the door.

Bern slammed his wrist against the wall, wincing as it popped back into place. “Stay outta grown up matters ye know nothin’ ‘bout, lad,” he snarled. “‘Fore someone shows ye _personally_ what girls like that soppy lil’ elezen deserve.”

A small hand raised in front of Thancred before he could step forward. He looked down.

“Come along,” Papalymo said. “We need not listen to this rapscallion.”

Thancred grit his teeth, but knew the thaumaturge was right. He turned to follow the Sharlayan trio to the door.

“Tha’s right!” Bern snarled. “Duck out with yer tails ‘twixt yer legs. And ye can tell the Feral I’ll be coming back to Limsa, and she won’t get in my way again!”

Thancred clenched his fists and kept walking.

“I’m gonna take back what’s mine!” Bern spat out.

Thancred stopped.

“What did ye say?”

The cold, hard tone in his voice made all three Sharlayans whirl back around. Yda pulled down her mask. Papalymo drew the Aurifex, resting the butt of the staff on the ground. Louisoix still seemed entirely relaxed, which might have been more dangerous, but Thancred was trembling so hard with rage it was all he could do not to fly apart, let alone analyze the archon’s response.

“I said, _boy_ , that I’m gonna take back _my_ woman, and leave yer Feral bobbin’ in the bay, while you--”

They never heard what Bern imagined, as the pommel of Thancred’s dagger jabbed into the man’s throat hard enough to leave him unable to breathe. Bern’s eyes bulged, and he tried to grab Thancred, but he easily dodged the attempt, slamming the hilt of his other stabber into Bern’s diaphragm. Bern doubled over, still struggling for air.

Thancred threw one of the daggers down, sticking it into the tabletop within easy reach, and then grabbed Bern’s shaggy hair. He slammed the highlander’s face into the table and held him there, the blade of his second dagger now a mere ilm from the man’s wide eye.

It had taken only a few seconds; the room was silent in surprise.

“Ye listen well,” Thancred snarled. “Feli ain’t _yers_ \--she makes her own choices, and none of ‘em involve you. Ye come back to Limsa, it ain’t V’lenne ye’ll have to worry ‘bout, nor her ‘bobbin’ in the bay.’ Savvy?” He twisted Bern’s hair for good measure.

“Ye little rat bastard--” Bern struggled; he was large enough Thancred couldn’t hold him for long.

Thancred flicked his blade, and Bern screamed. Thancred let go as the man clutched his face and fell to the floor.

“Thancred!” Yda gasped.

“Ah, yes, what a tough guy,” Thancred snarked. “I didn’t even take yer eye; just gave ye a scar ye can lie about later.” He retrieved his second dagger from the tabletop.

He had scored Bern from forehead, down his brow and cheek; easy enough at this range and angle to avoid the eyeball. Not that he had wanted to leave the man half-blind; the thought made Thancred sick, and he had to get out of the room before that could happen. Keeping his head high, he walked across the room toward his companions, trying to project that air of confidence the young Kraken Carvallain had already mastered.

“Ye little shite,” Bern called. He was half sobbing, so it was difficult to take him too seriously. “I’ll come fer ye first! Ye’ll learn ye ought to finish the job!”

Thancred tried not to wince, keeping his card-playing face on. Tolu’s words, after their impromptu duel.

He remembered Bochard’s words, less than a fortnight ago: _“Ye’ve a soft heart.”_

Thancred looked at the Sharlayans, realizing they had all been ready to have his back, as if they were part of his crew. Papalymo was staring up at him in that studious way he had, re-evaluating what he knew of Thancred. Yda was concerned even through her mask. Louisoix was unreadable, though he smiled slightly when Thancred rejoined them and looked up at the archon.

“Sorry fer the scene. We oughta go now.”

“Indeed,” Louisoix said evenly.

As they left, Thancred’s mind kept returning to Bochard. _“And it don’t mean ye can’t or won’t kill, if things come to it--yer too practical fer that--ye’ll just look fer other options first, and that’s a_ good _thing, Thancred.”_

“I hope yer right,” Thancred muttered to himself, following Louisoix back into the evening’s fading light.

The other inn the port boasted was for captains and officers. Papalymo spoke to the innkeeper longer than necessary to retrieve the keys, Thancred thought. He saw a few bully boys nod as the innkeeper gestured, and the men changed up their pattern for keeping the tavern clear of the kind of fights more common in the rowdier sailor bars.

Once again, he was responsible for causing trouble, and the Sharlayans were cleaning up the mess for him. He really had to watch that; they would be gone in just a few more days.

That thought stung, more than it should have.

He said little over supper, letting Yda and Papalymo carry the conversation. He felt like Louisoix was watching him, but every time he tried to catch the old man, Louisoix was paying attention to one of the others. Maybe it was simply Thancred’s imagination, though he doubted it.

Upstairs, Yda retired to her room quickly, claiming a headache. If she spent the next hour exercising and hitting the mattress and pillows to vent her frustration, none of them were brave enough to mention it. Papalymo and Thancred were sharing a room, but Louisoix asked Thancred to join him on the balcony that came with the captain’s room Papalymo had secured for his master.

_Here it was,_ Thancred thought heavily. Not only was the old man disappointed in what had happened in the tavern earlier, but it was likely to come with a reminder that day after next, they would be back in Limsa Lominsa, and the Sharlayans would no longer have need of him.

He told himself that was fine; this had only been temporary, after all, and V’lenne and the gang would be waiting for him and the blunt he would earn on this job. Assuming, anyway, that his behavior earlier didn’t mean forfeiting the pay. That was a possibility.

Pharos Sirius’ light cut through the fog. It was like its own ocean of silver, rolling over the water and land, muffling sounds and reflecting the lights of the town in strange ways, giving everything an otherworldly aura. If Thancred hadn’t felt so miserable, he might have liked the sight.

“You seem as gloomy as the weather,” Louisoix said after they had stood in silence for a time.

“Just a lot on my mind,” Thancred replied. “We’ll be back in the city in a few days.”

“Indeed,” Louisoix said. “You didn’t have to maim that man.”

And there it was. “I know. I lost my temper, rememberin’ what all he did to Feli, and then seein’ him tryin’ his nonsense with Yda, even if she coulda handled him.”

“You could have killed him. Quite easily.”

A strange shiver went up Thancred’s spine. Louisoix was using that maddeningly even, hard-to-read tone. Made it hard to adjust to the situation. “Coulda, but there weren’t no need fer that,” Thancred said. He watched the lighthouse’s rotation. “Havin’ Bern be the first man I kill would stick oddly, I think.”

“You would rather not know the one who gets that dubious distinction?”

Thancred shook his head. “I...don’t think I wanna kill anyone. But it’s gonna happen, sooner or later. ‘Specially once I join the Thieves. Some o’ the coves we’ll hunt won’t give a choice.”

“‘Tis a sad fact of our world,” Louisoix said. “Those who involve themselves in matters of life or death too often find themselves the arbiters of it, for good or for ill. Given your history with the man, I commend your restraint. But you did not have to maim him, either.”

Thancred frowned. “Maybe not. But he’s the type to respond to a stronger message.”

“Which he seems keen on escalating. Much like that fellow, Tolu.”

“I didn’t do nothin’ to Tolu,” Thancred countered. “He’s just homicidal.”

“You humiliated him before his peers and left him maimed as well,” Louisoix said. “He may have started it--but you escalated it.”

“I couldn’t exactly walk away,” Thancred replied, heat rising on his cheeks.

“No, you could not,” Louisoix agreed. “And I am not saying you were right, or wrong; I was not there for your confrontation with Tolu. But based on tonight, there is a pattern forming.”

Thancred frowned and leaned on the stone rail of the balcony. The fog hovered at the edge of the street below, leaving it hazy and damp. “Part o’ me thinks I shoulda been more practical, and killed ‘em. The rest o’ me gets sick thinkin’ it. There’s gotta be a better way, but in the world I live in…” He shook his head. “The docks ain’t like yer Studium with all its hypotheticals.”

“‘Tis a world of hard choices, made in a split second,” Louisoix agreed. “And you make them--with thought, good intentions, and consideration for the consequences after.”

“Fer all the good it does me.”

“It makes all the difference, Thancred.”

He puzzled over that, but was not sure what the archon meant.

“As you mentioned, the day after next, we shall return to Limsa Lominsa. We will report to the Admiral, wrap up our remaining errands, and then board a ship back to Sharlayan.”

Thancred did not respond. There was nothing to say, really.

“There’s a space for you to accompany us, should you wish it,” Louisoix continued, slowly.

Thancred blinked, straightened, and stared at Louisoix. “Wh-what?”

“You have a mind as sharp as those blades you wield,” Louisoix said. “And you care--about others, about your home, about matters larger than brawls on the lower docks. You are skilled, and have gods-given talents you have yet to realize. Return with us to Sharlayan, and we can help you unlock that potential, that you might use it to serve your fellow man.”

Thancred was not sure what to think. He closed his eyes, took a breath, and put his best card-playing face on. “...Why? I mean, the flattery’s nice and all, but there’s gotta be more to it than that.”

“Does there?” Louisoix asked, slightly amused; Thancred had caught onto something. “As necessary as the Upright Thieves are to Limsa Lominsa, I think you could do more--as I have a mind to do more than the Forum would allow. I intend to gather my like-minded colleagues and students into a group that will stand to help Eorzea as a whole, beholden to no single nation.” He frowned, and looked out over the foggy landscape.

“ _Something_ is coming; I know not what yet, but I feel the Empire will not stop with Ala Mhigo--and their meddling will awaken something that shall need extraordinary measures to stand against. And in any case, to face Garlemald, Eorzea must work together, not as these fractured pieces we are now.”

“Ye want me to be part o’ this group o’ colleagues and students, to what, unite Eorzea? I ain’t a student, nor a scholar of any kind.”

“You could be,” Louisoix replied. “You could even try to be an archon, as Yda strives for.”

Thancred laughed. “Me?” And yet, some wild whisper in the back of his mind asked _“Why not?”_

“Think on it,” Louisoix said. “I do not expect an answer tonight. Not when I am asking you to forsake all you’ve ever known, the responsibilities and plans you have here in La Noscea. I merely offer an alternative, should you want one.” He frowned again, looking weary as he turned back toward the door and the warm light of the inn room. “I cannot promise it will be a less violent life, nor that you won’t have to put those skills with your blades to the test--but it will not be the life of a Thief, either.”

“I...I’ll think on it,” Thancred said. “I’ll give ye an answer ‘fore ye board yer ship, at least.”

“Very well,” Louisoix said with a nod. “Now, we should both retire for the evening; there is much yet to do tomorrow, before we return to the city. If you wish to discuss my offer with Papalymo and Yda, feel free; they may have advice, and certainly their own thoughts.”

“I may wait on that; Papalymo’s like to keep me awake with questions and lectures if I ask him tonight.”

Louisoix laughed. “A wise choice, my boy. Off with you, now.”

“G’night, sir,” Thancred said, sketching a shallow bow.

“Have a good night, Thancred.”

He left Louisoix’s room, feeling a bit dazed. That feeling remained as he entered the little room he had to share with Papalymo. The thaumaturge was scribbling in his journal at the small desk. He looked up. “There you are; I won’t be much longer." He peered at Thancred. "Is everything all right?”

“Yes; mostly. Got some stuff to think about.”

“I should assume so,” Papalymo said dryly, dipping his pen into the ink fountain.

“Ye think I was wrong fer slicin’ Bern’s face?” Thancred asked, curious, and not more than a little afraid of losing the lalafell’s esteem, after it had been so hard to gain to begin with.

Papalymo considered. “Perhaps; I do not know the man, though you obviously do. I have also observed the people here operate under rather different customs than I am used to. What would be unacceptable in Sharlayan is the norm here, and perhaps vice versa. I know you could have done far worse to him.” He finished writing a line and put the pen away, then dusted the page. He looked at Thancred again as the ink dried. “We can but pray he takes the lesson to heart and changes his ways.”

“I doubt it, but it’d be nice.” Thancred flopped onto his bed, hands behind his head as he gazed up at the ceiling.

“Not going to do any writing yourself?” Papalymo asked as he got up from the desk and stretched.

“Not tonight; not the right headspace fer it, and I got a lot to think on, after talkin’ to Master Louisoix.”

“Oh?”

“I’ll tell ya tomorrow. May even have some advice to ask for.”

“My, that does sound serious,” Papalymo said in that deadpan way he had. “Very well; I shall ask again on the morrow. Sleep well,” he said, as he turned out the lights.

Thancred lay in the dark for a long time, hearing his roommate’s breathing even out as sleep claimed him. He considered Louisoix’s words, the offer to leave Limsa, to study in Sharlayan.

“Archon Thancred Waters,” he whispered, trying it out. It sounded utterly ridiculous. There was no way he could leave the gang, leave the Sisters, leave _Limsa_ , to follow some foolish notion of becoming a scholar.

But there was that voice in the back of his mind again, insistent:

_“Why not?”_


	9. Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A last lighthearted day before returning to the city...but there's a storm on the horizon, and Louisoix isn't the only one with ideas for Thancred's future.

Thancred dropped his shirt to the side and pulled his daggers. Yda had also removed her shirt, though still wore a tight hempen crop top as she slipped gut wrenchers over her knuckles. “Ready?” She asked, already bouncing in her own ready stance.

He grinned, and attacked. She danced away, jabbing at his arms, and he had to move fast to avoid a bruising.

Sparring with Yda the past fortnight had been as educational--and as tough--as training with Bochard the last two or three moons. Thancred knew how pirates and thieves fought with knife and fist; the Sharlayan pugilist, however, was a whole other class. She certainly kept him on his toes, and forced him to come up with new attacks and counters he had not considered before.

The spar ended as many had: Thancred flat on his back, the air knocked out of him, and tapping out as Yda grinned and leaned down to haul him to his feet again. He had only gotten the better of her three or four times (they kept debating whether that one time counted as a draw or not).

“You’re getting better,” she said. “Definitely lasting longer. I’m almost breaking a real sweat,” she teased, wiping her brow.

“There are so many responses I could make to that…” He mused as he ran a hand through his own sweat-dampened hair. She eyerolled and tossed him his canteen as he snickered.

“You’ve got a dirty mind, Thancred.”

He shrugged good naturedly. “I’m a healthy boy, what can I say?”

“Anything but that,” she shot back, laughing. She took a long pull from her own canteen. “Still too young.”

“And not yer type,” he feigned a heavy sigh. “Ah well. I like bein’ friends better, anyhow.”

“Me too,” she said. He thought she even meant it. “So, Master Louisoix really asked you to come back to Sharlayan with us?”

“Papalymo already told ya, huh?”

“Well of course,” she said. “You’re going to, right? I would _love_ to show you ‘round the city.”

“I ain’t decided yet,” he said. “Kinda wonderin’ what ye think; I mean, ye’ve been livin’ there fer a little while now. Like, whatcha think of the people, and how they run things, and if...well, if a thievin’ dock rat could hope to fit in.”

She frowned at him. “Hey, you’re more than that, you know. Don’t shake your head at me; I mean it. You’re really good at fighting, and being sneaky doesn’t mean you _have_ to be a thief--like, a lotta guards and scouts need to be quiet, and know how to do all those things you’re good at. And you’re a good writer. I only know a couple of others so young as you that really appreciate poetry.”

“Still pretty amateur; my rhymes aren’t great, cuz I know there’s better whids out there, I just haven’t learned ‘em, and gettin’ the right meter is tough…”

She laughed. “You’re your own worst critic,” she said. “Listen, I don’t know anything about meter or the like--my friend Y’shtola could probably explain it in detail, and make it all sound really boring in the process--but I know what I like, what I think sounds good, and your poems I like. I like the words, and how they all sound together when read out, and how they make me feel. That’s what’s important, right?”

“Well, yeah, I guess so…”

“And a lot of the rest you can learn in time. I bet you’d _love_ the Great Library. Pretty much every book ever written is in there.”

“So it’s yer least favorite place in the world?” He teased.

“Bah! I’ll just stick to the upper levels where they keep the _fun_ books,” she replied with a giggle. She took another long drink from her canteen, getting serious again. “But really, Thancred, you’ve got the smarts to keep up with the scholars; probably better than I could, honestly. At least, you wouldn’t let them outwit you. That would be the main thing, y’know; making them think you’re smart enough to keep up.”

“Yer plenty smart,” he said. He would like to challenge anyone who claimed otherwise.

She shrugged. “Not in the ‘right’ ways, not according to a lot of Sharlayans.” She looked out over the meadow they had chosen to spar in. The wind made the long grasses ripple and wave like the ocean past the shoreline, distant and below the ridge. “Lotta them also think I ought to stick to raising my sister, not spending so much time earning my archon marks, as a foreigner especially. But I believe that becoming an archon _is_ the best way for me to take care of Lyse--and maybe, someday....” She trailed off, but it wasn’t hard to know what she was thinking, as she gazed toward the northeast.

“So, if I get a hard time, it’ll be cuz I’m not native, regardless?” He asked after a bit.

She shook out of her reverie. “Only from those that put stock in such things. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve got plenty of friends! Many of them are Master Louisoix’s students--Y’shtola isn’t, but she has a lot of the same ideas, and I think her Master Matoya does too, really, she just disagrees with Louisoix on _principle_ \--And there’s Rammbroes, though he’s more of a colleague, I guess, at this point. There’s the younger students, too, the ones still years from the Studium--if they go--but they have a lot of potential, apparently.”

He listened, nodding. “Think they’d like me?”

“Oh, Moenbryda will think you’re a lot of fun. Urianger’s a serious little kid, always has his nose in a book--he also likes old poetry, and prophecies, which are almost the same things, really. If it weren’t for Moen, he’d either never move or always run into things. They’re only a few seasons older than Lyse, actually. She annoys Urianger a lot, but Moen has ways of getting him to play--she’s a bit of a hellraiser actually.”

He listened as Yda named off several other friends; some her age, some older, some younger. “What about Louisoix’s family?” He asked, when she paused to drink from her canteen.

“Mm, they’re all right. Fourchenault is the main problem, as he and Louisoix don’t see eye to eye on political policy, but they still respect and care about each other. He got married recently, so hopefully he calms down a little, and rethinks this whole ‘up and move away’ plan. I doubt it, though. If Leveilleurs are anything, it’s stubborn.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Thancred said dryly. They both laughed, and he flopped back onto the grass, arms splayed, looking up at the clear blue sky. “I dunno that I’m ready to go back to Limsa,” he admitted. “But I dunno that I belong anywhere else, either.”

“It’s up to you,” Yda said. “But you know my opinion.” She frowned. “Did Papalymo actually give you his opinion, or just commentary on your own, trying to get you to think?”

Thancred thought back to his conversation with the lalafell that morning in their room. “He...no, actually, he didn’t tell me. Told me a lot about the city, asked me a lotta questions, and well, it did get me thinkin’.”

Yda sighed and rolled her eyes as she stood. She retrieved her shirt, and threw Thancred’s at him, covering his face. “I probably shouldn’t tell you, but...he hopes you accept, too. He thinks you can do well somewhere other than the Thieves’ Guild. So do I.”

He pulled his shirt away from his face to study her as she started walking back to town, trusting he would catch up.

************

Half a bell later, Yda and Thancred arrived back in Aleport. As they passed the sailor’s tavern, Thancred noted the young redhead barmaid, chatting with a few other, older barmaids and a woman from the bar who had a less innocent profession. Viewed in the light of day, the midlander girl was definitely close to Thancred’s age, and even prettier than he had first thought. She smiled at him as he and Yda walked down the street.

“Oh, go talk to her,” Yda said. “We still have time before we meet Papalymo and Master Louisoix for supper.” She grinned and shook her head.

“See ye later, then,” Thancred said, wandering over to where the girl was chatting with her friends, leaning casually against the wall nearby as he listened.

One of the other barmaids smirked and walked away as the redhead gave Thancred a little wave. “Hello,” she said. “I saw you last night.”

“Ever’one did,” the doxie laughed. “Good show wit’ that bastard, lad.”

Thancred gave them a lopsided smile and shrugged one shoulder. “He made the mistake of hurtin’ a friend o’ mine. Deserved it.”

“That he did,” the second barmaid, an older brunette, said. “Ain’t been seen since, neither.”

The redhead nodded. “Some o’ the sailors say he got bit by the Upright Thieves, for breakin’ the Code.”

Thancred blinked, but kept up his charming smile. The doxie might have caught his momentary slip, but the barmaids seemed oblivious. “That so?” He asked. “Hear all sorts o’ stories ‘bout them, pretty sure most o’ them ain’t true. Can’t be.”

Well, many of the stories actually _could_ be, but these ladies needn’t worry about that.

The redhead shrugged. “He didn’t show up to his ship when it was s’posed to weigh anchor; the bosun was in a right mood ‘bout it.” She giggled. “Prolly good for you that they left today.”

“Bein’ on the wrong side o’ a bosun’s cat is _not_ somewhere I wanna be,” he admitted with a sheepish grin.

“Well, I think I need to get back to work,” the brunette said. “Ye got a shift tonight, Mari.”

“I know, I know,” the redhead, Mari, answered, waving the older woman off.

The doxie chuckled. “I ought to get ready fer me own shift later,” she said, giving them a saucy wink. “Take care, Mari. Laddy.”

Thancred nodded politely as she left, then turned his full attention--and most charming smile--to the redhead girl. “So, Mari is it?”

“Yes, that’s me. And you are…?”

“Thancred, at yer service,” he said, with a bow. “I’m jus’ blowin’ through town fer now, ‘fraid I dunno my way ‘round yet. Could use a tour, maybe.”

Mari considered, and smiled slowly. “I know my ‘way ‘round pretty well. I think I can show you a few things.”

Thancred grinned. “Lead the way.”

As they began walking, Mari chatting amiably, Thancred wondered in the back of his mind about Bern’s sudden disappearance and the rumors of thieves. He had not been contacted by anyone from the guild, and that seemed unlikely, given circumstances. It seemed far more likely that Bern had skittered off like the roach he was after publicly getting his arse handed to him by a boy over ten years his junior and half his size.

Mari asked Thancred where he was from, and he put thoughts of Bern aside to spin a story for the girl, one more or less true without giving away anything of value. The rest of the afternoon passed pleasantly, with Mari showing him various points of interest, including a nicely secluded spot where a couple of youths could indulge in curious kissing and get rather handsy without nosy adults interrupting.

Thancred made sure Mari had a nice time before dashing off to prepare for her shift at the sailor’s tavern, while he ambled back to the officer’s inn to meet the Sharlayans. Yda and Papalymo were at a table on the patio, and they waved to him as he snagged a seat.

“There’s a shite-eating grin if I ever saw one,” Yda said, ignoring Papalymo’s ‘tsk’ at her language. She had a small plate of cookies she was munching on, despite how near to supper it was. “I take it you had a good time?”

“Y’can say that, yes. If anyone asks though, yer my sister.”

“Than-cred,” she said with an eyeroll.

“What? I just...forgot to correct an assumption as to why we’re travelin’ together,” he replied with an innocent look and shrug.

Papalymo shook his head. “It should not matter too much, I suppose, as we shall be returning to Limsa Lominsa on the morrow.” He did seem amused, at least.

“Home again, home again,” Thancred said in a slightly bitter singsong, sneaking a cookie off Yda’s plate.

“Have you given more thought to Master Louisoix’s offer, or were you sufficiently distracted?” Papalymo asked.

“I’m still mullin’ it over. Kinda wanna talk to V’lenne, or Bochard, ‘bout it first, too,” Thancred replied.

Yda frowned as Thancred started nibbling on the cookie, looking down at her plate. Before she could say anything, Master Louisoix pulled out the last chair and joined them. “Here you all are. Not that I can complain, ‘tis a fine evening for sitting outside. Everyone have a good day?”

“Yessir,” Yda said. “Thancred and I even got some practice in.”

“Giving me time to reorganize my notes and begin drafting my thesis for the upcoming symposium, where I shall present what we learned on this trip,” Papalymo said.

“Well that sounds excitin’,” Thancred teased. “Like Yda said, though, was a pretty good day.” He wondered if he ought to mention Bern’s disappearance, but then dismissed it as unimportant to the Sharlayans; that chocobo’s arse was not a problem they had to worry about.

Louisoix nodded. “And have you given my offer more thought?”

“Waitin’ to speak to some folk back in the city,” Thancred said again.

“Very well,” the archon replied. Then he raised an eyebrow. “Are you eating cookies before supper?”

“Yda was, I’m just makin’ sure she didn’t spoil her appetite.”

“Oh you little--”

Louisoix laughed. “Pray go tell the staff we’re ready to order, my boy.”

Thancred hopped up, dodging Yda’s playful swipe, and made his way inside to speak to the tavern keeper.

Halfway to the bar he paused and whirled, studying a group leaving through the other set of doors to the street. He could have sworn he had caught a glimpse of one of the thieves who had left the Sisters with Tolu, amongst a group of sailors; looking again though, he only saw officers of the Flying Mantas, one of the smaller crews out of Limsa.

“All right, lad?” A waiter asked as he came over to Thancred.

Thancred looked up and smiled disarmingly. “Thought I saw someone I knew that I wasn’t expectin’. Trick o’ the light, though. If ye don’t mind, the archon’s ready fer supper…”

As he arranged their meal and drink for the evening, Thancred tried to shake the feeling of nervous pin-pricking on his arms and neck. He was certain he was not being watched, not in this room--no good vantage points, for one.

The Upright Lady alone knew the Sharlayans’ itinerary, so she could send word if needed before Thancred returned to the city. She had not yet, and he chose to think that was probably a good thing.

He must have been mistaken. He really wanted to be mistaken.

Thancred returned to the Sharlayans’ table, feeling uneasy.

************

V’lenne was about to the end of her tether.

“Whatcha _mean_ ye dunno where Tolu got to?”

“I don’t think me whids left any room fer doubt,” the Upright Lady said calmly. “He’s buggered off, and bein’ so good as he is, even my current best can’t find the little bastard, nor them that followed him.”

“And if he’s gone after our dimber colt again?”

“Thancred should be back in Limsa by tomorrow. If he don’t report back on time, I’m lookin’ myself.”

“We should look _now_ ,” V’lenne growled. “Or ye really gonna let Tolu keep on disrespectin’ ye like this?”

The Captain frowned, but before she could answer, Bochard came in, hauling what looked more like a drowned rat than a miqo’te with him. “Gotta agree with the Feral on this, Cap’n,” he said. “Look what the tide washed up.”

The Captain looked over the Tia dripping and shivering on her rug. “Hope ye got some pretty good whids to save yer skin, R’uto. My patience ran out long ago.”

R’uto shook his head. “I--I’m sorry, Cap’n; I didn’t know things’d go so far, or what they was gonna do…”

“How many of yer fellow thieves ye mill the past fortnight?” She asked, voice cold enough to make even V’lenne shiver.

The streets of Limsa had been quietly at war since Tolu’s attempted coup, thwarted by Thancred’s intervention. The thieves were at each other's’ throats, and some of the pirate crews were already taking advantage of the internal chaos. The regular folks just trying to make a living were keeping off the streets once the sun went down--so were most of the petty gangs, lest they be drawn in by one side or another. Some already had been.

V’lenne had had no choice but to get her kits off the streets entirely, handing them over to the orphanage run by Llymlaen's priests, something they had protested and she felt guilty about. But they were out of reach of any of the fighting guild members; none of them would touch the church. Except, perhaps, Tolu himself, but the target of his anger was not there.

The only one left now was Feli, and neither the Captain nor V’lenne would let her leave the Sisters.

R’uto cringed. “It--it weren’t like that, Cap’n, I swear! I only went along cuz Guldbaen--”

“I ain’t interested in yer boytoy’s actions,” the Captain interrupted. “Just yer own. Why’re ye here?”

R’uto’s tail lashed, his ears flat against his skull. “I...I know what Tolu’s plannin’; he means to draw y’out, Cap’n, and he figures the lad and the tourists he’s been playin’ with are the way to do it. He really wants to mill that cocky little colt, too.”

“Seven hells, I bloody told ya--!” V’lenne railed.

“Quiet,” the Captain ordered, deadly calm. “Tolu may be bitin’ off more’n he can chew, if the old man and his ‘prentice are Sharlayan archons. But he’s smarter than that, too. So yer gonna tell us everythin’, R’uto, and gods help ye if yer lyin’. I’ll feed ye to the fishbacks myself.”

Once R’uto was done spilling his guts, Bochard had Slaeroega and Lonwoerd haul the miqo’te out again, telling them to let the colts practice their string ups on him. Bochard turned to the Captain and V’lenne. “We ain’t gonna get to Aleport in time to warn ‘em, Cap’n.”

“No,” she agreed. “But we can spring our own trap where Tolu’s least expectin’ it. We’re gonna have to trust them mages meantime--not to mention our dimber lad and his own skills, ‘til we can get there.”

“I’m comin’ along,” V’lenne said.

The Captain shook her head. “Nay, lass, yer stayin’ here and keepin’ an eye on yer girl. This is thief business.”

“Thancred’s _my_ crew--”

“Not if he lives through this,” the Upright Lady said as she stood. “Ye set it up yerself, V’lenne. He nicks his way outta this ambush, Thancred’s _ours_.”


	10. Poison

The world was shaking, but it was also soft, and really bright, and smelled like apple blossoms, and a girl’s anxious voice was begging, “Oh gods, please wake up!”

Not one to willingly disappoint a girl, Thancred forced his eyes to open. Getting them to agree to focus was a whole other matter. “‘M wake,” he slurred. His mouth wasn’t cooperating either, and what was that awful taste in it? Seemed like it ought to be familiar.

The girl let out a relieved sigh. “I’ll get you some water; the antidote should finish its work in a minute.”

He tried to recall how he knew that voice and the blur of what must have been red hair over the pale, freckled blur of her face. It was almost as important as that horrible nagging in his mind, of something dreadful having happened and he needed to move, dammit…

Thancred tried to sit up, but the room was very spinny.

“Not yet,” the girl said, steadying him. She put a cup to his lips. “Try this...easy now...there.”

Oh that was better.

He blinked a few times as things began to focus. Mari. That was her name. She was sitting next to him, on a soft bed. There was a vase of apple blossoms on her night stand, next to a lamp that wasn’t all that bright now that he was properly awake.

“I…” that was croaky. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I’ve never said this before, but I don’t rightly recall how I got here or what we did.” Not his best joke. Would help if he could talk properly.

Mari gave him an exasperated look. “You showed up, in nothin’ but your sleepin’ shorts, bleedin’ at the back door of the tavern, askin’ me to help you hide. When I realized you were _poisoned_ , I scrambled to find an antidote ‘fore whatever it was killed you. What the seven hells happened?”

Thancred thought about it, gesturing for the water cup. He was able to drink on his own this time. He realized, belatedly, he really was only wearing a pair of shorts, and she must have been the one who clumsily bandaged the cut on his left side.

“Some people who don’t like me much busted into the rooms my friends and I were stayin’ in,” he said, remembering. “They wanted to take us...somewhere.”

_He woke to the sense of someone stealthing into the room, and he managed to move at the last second. The big sea wolf loomed over his bed, but Thancred was now out of it and on the other side._

_“The boss has got plans fer ye, colt,” Guldbaen said, reaching for him. Thancred dodged, looking for Papalymo, but he was already wrangled by a second thief--another of Tolu’s cronies. He heard something hit the wall where Yda’s room was, then a short, angry cry, and then silence._

_Tied and gagged, Papalymo’s eyes grew wide at the sound, then dark with fury as he struggled against his captor, to no avail._

_Thancred moved on instinct, diving through the open window and out onto the tiled roof of the level below. He heard Guldbaen swear as he rolled to his feet and sprang toward the wall of the next building._

_Something bit his side, and he felt blood and fire. Behind him, he heard a high-pitched man scold Guldbaen. “Idiot, if ye kill ‘im ‘fore the boss can, he’ll have yer head!”_

_Then Thancred was too far away to hear any more, moving in full “lose pursuit” mode. Not for too long though; the poison was coursing swiftly through his veins, helped by his hammering heart, and he had to find an antidote and get somewhere safe fast…_

Thancred shook his head. The hazy memories cut out after that point. “My friends, the Sharlayan scholars--I think they were taken last night. I gotta find out to where.”

“All right. You stay here, I’ll find out what I can,” she said, standing up.

“Ye don’t gotta--”

“You can hardly stand up yet, and if there’s someone lookin’ for you, they’ll expect you to go back, right?”

“Well, yes, but--”

“I know people and ways in, and trust me, them officer types don’t notice a servin’ girl--not ‘less it’s after supper and they’re in their cups, anyway.” She grinned and headed for the door, and much as he wanted to, he couldn’t exactly stop her.

Mari shook him awake again sometime later; the sun was peeking in from over the eastern hills and through her gauzy curtains, making everything a golden-pink color. “Talked a friend o’ mine into letting me into your rooms,” she said. “No one noticed anythin' last night, and they hadn’t gone up to check this mornin’ yet--it’s only now dawn, anyway, and they wouldn’t be expectin’ you ‘til breakfast. The rooms’re tossed--my friend’s cleanin’ it up now--but I brought your clothes and daggers.”

“Thanks. Sorry I drug ye into this,” he said.

She shrugged. “You’ll just have to pay me back sometime,” she said, giving him a wink.

He grinned back. “I’ll find a way to manage that, I’m sure,” he said. He pulled his clothes on. “Hey, so, the guy I tussled with in yer bar the other night--folks think he got bit by the Thieves, what made ‘em think that?”

Mari watched him as she considered the question. Under other circumstances he would not mind a girl’s gaze, but it was kind of distracting at the moment. “Well, he didn’t leave with his shipmates--some lalafell walked up to him after you all left, the guy got scared, and then the lalafell hustled him out.”

Thancred felt cold. “What’d that lalafell look like?”

“I didn’t get a long look, but he had a fresh scar on his face and dark hair.”

He bit back a curse. “Tolu. He ain’t an Upright Thief--not any more. But he’s dangerous. I gotta find the Sharlayans.”

“How do you know--”

“Thanks again fer all yer help,” he said as he stood, smiling charmingly and taking her hand. “If I had the time, I’d pay ye back now.” He leaned in and gave her a kiss.

She frowned as he pulled away again. “Be careful; I’d rather not try to explain to my boss--again--why I’m bringin’ a naked, bleedin’ boy home.”

“Got it; less blood, more naked next time,” Thancred joked, strapping on his dagger belt. To his delight, she blushed strongly at that comment. She was then shocked when he did not leave by the door, but opened the window and leapt to the tree standing outside the building.

He swung through the branches up and around the trunk, jumping over onto a neighboring roof before slipping around the corner as Mari leaned out her window, trying to determine where he had gone.

Thancred made his way across the rooftops and high rails of Aleport to the officer’s inn. No one had seen or heard anything last night, so the thieves likely had left the same way he had. He noted his own blood trail once he did arrive, leading back to where Guldbaen’s dagger had struck him. From there, he eyed the window leading to his and Papalymo’s room.

He wished the maid hadn’t begun cleaning and storing their belongings; there might have been some hints he could use to track the thieves. No help for that now, however, so he stuck to the outside.

The roof over the lower level held balconies for some of the second story rooms, like Louisoix’s. Thancred was glad to find no evidence of blood on the balcony, but he did see a possible way down into the alley, where a group of thieves could carry three people without being seen. He shimmied down the side of the building and checked the dirt; definitely some heavy movement going through last night, keeping to the less-trafficked back streets toward one of the smaller side exits of the town.

He almost missed the sequence of tiny scorch marks in the ground. One or two, that was nothing, but three, then four, then five? He studied them, closed his eyes, and thought a moment. Given how that thief must have been carrying Papalymo over a shoulder or under his arm like a sack of popotos--yes, that seemed right. Without his staff and trussed up, Papalymo wouldn’t be able to do much to his captors--but leaving a trail to follow despite those limits, that was something Thancred assumed was well within the young archon’s capability.

So go with that, then, and assume it was his ally leaving a trail to follow, and not the thieves leading him into a trap. And if it was a trap--well, not much choice but to spring it, was there?

He wished he had time and means to contact the guild. But gods only knew what Tolu was doing to the Sharlayans. Why had he even taken them?

Thancred considered that question as he followed the trail out of town and into the meadows. The sky was brightening as the sun climbed higher, the ever-present wind rippling the grass, dodos clucking and cooing at their nests.

The Sharlayans were tourists, not involved in guild business--except for their association with Thancred, of course. So there was that. But more likely, too, was their purpose for being in La Noscea, at the Admiral’s behest. Louisoix was a man of rank, and had come specifically to deal with the aetherytes and incorporate that into his own studies and education for his pupils, one already an archon as well, the other in training. They were to report back to the Admiral later today, once they returned to the city before leaving for their own.

But if a thief who had attempted to take over the guild kidnapped those particular tourists, well that’d still make the guild look bad, wouldn’t it? Their position in the city was a tricky one, and reliant on the whims of the current Admiralty. Not all the crews appreciated the shadows with daggers watching over them for any violation of Limsa’s fragile Code. Discord within the guild, though, would cause chaos amongst the crews--and the Admiral might have to step in. Current bastard in the role was a heavy-handed one, too, and one of those ambivalent about the Upright Thieves. Rumors of some kind of past relationship with the Captain was the only thing staying his hand.

Thancred wondered just how things had been going in Limsa, this past fortnight. He had a feeling, thinking about it, that things might not be as normal as he had hoped.

The trail--both the subtle tracks left by the thieves and what he assumed were Papalymo’s spell marks--led due north across the fields, avoiding the main roads but making use of shepherd paths across the rolling plains. As he got into the hills, Thancred kept a nervous eye out for any sentries or traps; it would be unlike Tolu to leave his back open.

Thancred found the traps as he made his way up a small cut in the hills, disabling them as he passed and carefully pocketing the poisoned darts attached to them; those would be handy later. Just outside a cavern entrance, he caught sight of a couple hidden sentries. One, he realized, was Bern. The cut Thancred had left on his face was swollen and red, straining the stitches and half-closing his eye; it was probably infected.

Thancred kept low, moving carefully and silently, until he was close. Then he waited.

After several minutes, Bern blew out a bored breath and stretched. “How long ye figure ‘til the real fun begins?”

The other sentry didn’t answer, keeping an eye out. Thancred recognized the fellow, a midlander named Greff, who was known for being falsely gregarious in the day to day. On the job, he was all cold business, and didn’t suffer fools well. Bern wasn’t like to get much out of him.

“I just ask, as that lil’ Mhigan wench deserves a bit of a lesson, y’know? Think Tolu’ll let me give ‘er one?”

Thancred saw Greff grimace in disgust, and his fambles twitch by his stabbers. He was the only reason Thancred wasn’t leaping out of the bushes to slice Bern for those comments--he had to stay calm, and wait for the right time; the others were counting on him, pathetic as that was.

And for all his faults, Tolu wouldn’t let someone like Bern within a malm of Yda while she was helpless. Probably why the arse was stuck out here.

Thancred pulled out the darts to examine them closer. The two poison darts from the trap nearest the cavern smelled like a particular fast-acting, deadly toxin, and so he kept those in his thick leather pouch, but the two darts from the first trap, further down the hill, were a powerful sleeping draught; the traps had been designed to send a signal when triggered, so someone could investigate what had stumbled into the trap, man or beast. Unnecessary murders would bring attention, after all, and a slumbering shepherd could be moved somewhere less problematic. If nothing else, free meat if a dodo or sheep got caught. If they made it past that first trap somehow and too close, though, then there would be a body to hide or burn.

Eventually, finally, Bern stood and grumbled, then made his way off to the side to take a piss. He moved just out of sight of the cavern and Greff; perfect.

Thancred crept closer, careful of the underbrush. He was glad of the last two weeks practice in the countryside, stalking critters or his companions without being seen or heard. As Bern began buttoning his pants back up, Thancred leapt in, clamping one hand over the highlander’s mouth, while his other stabbed one of the sleeping darts directly into Bern’s chest. He was so quick, Bern didn’t have much chance to struggle; the poison acted fast, and Thancred kept him from crying out or making any noise as he fell, guiding the bigger man’s body to the ground gently.

His heart was pounding as he gagged and tied Bern; the temptation to do worse was strong, but there wasn’t the time, and thinking too hard about it still felt nauseating.

Thancred hid, and waited some more. After several minutes, Greff sighed heavily and moved around. “Bern?” He asked, in a normal speaking volume, sounding more bored and annoyed than anything. Thancred threw another sleeping dart, praying to the Spinner that Greff’s reflexes weren’t as sharp as he feared.

The dart struck true, and Greff only had time to blink in surprise before hitting the ground.

Two down, at least a dozen more to go. Easy. Sure.

Thancred trussed Greff up the same way and drug him over to where he had hidden Bern, a thorny bush between them. He divested both men of their weapons, and Greff of his own poisons. He then took a deep breath, and still looking out for traps and other sentries, began slowly stealthing his way through the cavern.

Thieves were not the only trouble awaiting the unwary, as he crept past various bats, aureliae, buzzing lighted insects, crabs, and other critters. He found ways around pools and sharp coral, all the while resisting the urge to hurry.

He eventually came to an open, dry cavern with various side pockets and tunnels leading off into darkness. It was dimly lit with multiple torches. There were already structures and supplies here, all of it looking worn and moldy, long abandoned by whatever pirates had formerly used the hideout. A wind from further down the tunnel blew in salty sea air; the cavern had access to the ocean. The place had not seen use from people for some time, making it perfect for a few thieves to temporarily set up shop.

The thieves were not in this first area, however, nor were their prisoners. Thancred began to hear, down the tunnel to where he assumed the cavern met the sea, shouts and sounds of combat starting. Maybe the pirates had come back?

He made a quick check of the side rooms, regardless, and was glad he did; the mages’ staffs were being kept in one of the better-kept rooms; likely the thieves were hoping to fetch a price on the black market for the esoteric items. Thancred carefully carried them with him. He could practically feel the thrum of magic from the staffs, like the slightest hint of electric vibration against his fingers. One of those feelings easy to ignore, like breathing or blinking, until you remembered to think about it.

Thancred crept around the final bend to the hidden cove, taking in the situation. He made a face at what he saw.

The Upright Thieves had tried to slip into the cove via the waterway, but found themselves in a trap. This didn’t seem like the kind of mistake the Captain would make--unless she had bad intel. The guild members barely outnumbered Tolu’s bunch--and he had about a dozen men--but the guild was losing thanks to the superior position and element of surprise Tolu had set up.

The Sharlayans were in cages near Thancred at the entrance to the cove, still tied and gagged. That would not do.

He made his way over carefully, his slight frame able to slip between the cages and the slick, rocky wall of the grotto. “Yda,” he said softly.

She was startled, and twisted to look, relaxing when she saw him. “I’m gonna untie yer hands and pick this lock,” he kept whispering. “But need ye to wait and not let ‘em know yer free yet, savvy?”

She nodded, extending her hands back toward him; it’d be impressive if the situation wasn’t so dire. He cut the bonds easily, leaving her to loosen her ankles and the gag while he picked the lock on her cage. It wasn’t a difficult one, and he left the door looking closed as he moved on to Papalymo.

The thaumaturge had noticed him, and was grinning wickedly through his gag. Thancred grinned back, repeating his efforts, and leaving the Aurifex on the floor of the cage next to Papalymo. He turned to Louisoix next. The elezen was calmly watching the events, eyes turning to Thancred as he patiently waited for the boy to finish his work.

“Hide,” Louisoix said through his loosened gag as a lull came in the action; Thancred hadn’t been watching, so intent he was on freeing his friends. He slid the staff within reach of the elder archon and then dashed for a rocky outcropping on the other side of the cave entrance, and peeked out to see what was happening.

The Captain, Bochard, Slaeroega, and several other thieves were surrounded by Tolu and his remaining gang members; injured and dead men and women lay scattered on the rough, sandy floor, two of Tolu’s men starting to gather and truss a couple of the injured, though some they finished off outright--those who might not be persuaded to join the lalafell, Thancred figured, gritting his teeth.

“Well,” Tolu drawled. “R’uto delivered my message, I see,” he chuckled raggedly. “Ye fell right into it, too, better’n I’d hoped.”

The Captain glowered, breathing heavily; she was bleeding from a half dozen cuts, but still going on pure roegadyn stamina and fury. “I shoulda strung yer guts ‘cross the Navigator's Veils weeks ago,” she snarled.

“But ye didn’t,” Tolu said. “Left me to yer lil’ golden boy, and he didn’t have the balls to finish the job proper.” Tolu held up a familiar tattered notebook. “Never gonna drop those stones, either.”

That swiving bastard.

This called for something special.

The cavern seemed perfect for a trick Thancred had learned from a minstrel wandering through the city last year. So far, he’d only used it to entertain the members of his gang. Now he hoped it worked as a bit more than entertainment.

From the rafters on the opposite side of the cavern, Thancred’s voice echoed: “Thought we already talked ‘bout bitin’ my things?”

Tolu froze. The various thieves looked around. The Captain laughed. “What was that ye were sayin’ about the lad not bein’ able to finish a job properly?”

“Kinda disappointin', ain’t it? Sure his ladies must think so.” Thancred’s voice came from another corner, nearer the water this time.

“Find that cocky lil’ bastard!” Tolu snapped. The men seeing to the injured and corpses began to search, joined by another two from the circle around the guild.

That was when the mages struck, Papalymo’s offensive spells hitting the fanning thieves while Louisoix’s conjury revived the injured guild members, cuts closed and poison neutralized. Yda dove out of her cage and into a man Papalymo hadn’t been able to catch, her fists slamming into his guts and face faster than could be seen. She left him unconscious in the dirt and flung herself at the next man needing a pummelling.

Hells broke loose as the guild resumed fighting with the gang, the Captain trying to get to Tolu. He leapt away, flinging the notebook into the water-- _damn him!_ \--and drawing his stabbers again. The lalafell sprung off an old beam, ready to throw his poisoned blades at the roegadyn.

Thancred was faster.

The darts hit Tolu, one in the neck, another in the arm. His daggers slipped from his fambles as the toxin took hold nearly instantly, and his leap became a fall, his small body striking the sand and rolling only a little before he flopped onto his back, eyes glassily staring at nothing.

That...had been entirely too easy, Thancred thought as he fought against a wave of nausea. Yet, what choice was there, when Tolu had gone so far, and would go yet further to hurt and kill people Thancred cared about? The man had never intended for any but his own to walk out of the cove alive.

The Captain shouted, and the fighting soon died down, Louisoix and Papalymo tending to the injured with their spells.

Yda found Thancred, still crouched in his last hiding place, staring back at Tolu’s sightless gaze. “Hey,” she said gently, carefully reaching over to brush his shoulder. He jerked, startled, blinking up at her. She pulled him to his feet and into a tight embrace. “It’s over,” she said, rubbing his back. “Thank you. For coming for us.”

“‘Course,” he hoarsely answered, squeezing her in return. It was easier, a little, now that he wasn’t looking at Tolu’s body.

“Thancred!” The Captain called.

He cleared his throat and stepped away from Yda. She gave him a nod as he straightened his tunic and ran a hand through his hair, before making his way to where the others were gathered.

The Captain smiled down at him. “Yer makin’ a habit of savin’ my skin, lad,” she joked, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

Thancred forced himself to smile back up at her. “Just doin’ what needs done, Cap’n,” he said.

Her expression softened a little, and she squeezed his shoulder gently. “That ye did, me rum cove. I can’t be sorry fer it, neither; more woulda died.”

“I know,” he said, looking away.

“Well!” She continued, taking in a breath. “I can’t think of a more pressin’ test fer entry, can ye, Bochard?”

“No ma’am,” he answered. “And gods know we gotta go recruitin’; it’ll be good to have such a skilled young cove to help show the colts how things work.”

Thancred blinked at them. “Ye mean…?”

“Yer a proper Upright Thief,” the Captain said. The other thieves were grinning, even through their weariness.

It was everything Thancred had planned for, all he had wanted for _moons_ , ever since V’lenne had first broached the idea and taken him to meet Bochard.

The Sharlayans were hard to read, though Yda offered him a wan smile. Thancred couldn’t tell if Louisoix was disappointed or not; the archon looked as tired as everyone else. “We should return to the city. The Admiral, I am sure, will be wondering where we are.”

“Aye, lemme deal with him,” the Captain said. “There’s plenty to straighten out after this mess.”

“Thancred,” Slaeroega said, walking over, holding a sodden mess in his hands. “I tried to salvage yer journal, but I’m ‘fraid…”

He winced as he took what was left; the ink and graphite had run and smudged on what pages could even be separated, most of them stuck together and easily torn. He sighed. “Well. Was ‘bout due fer a new one, I s’pose,” he said glumly. Too bad he hadn’t been able to copy everything first.

“You’ll just have to rewrite it all, and it’ll be even better,” Yda said. She would say that, and in a way that made him almost believe it.

“C’mon,” the Captain said as the guild readied the little sloop they had used to enter the cove. “Let’s go home. We got a meetin’ to get to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest chapter yet. I scrapped what I originally wrote over the long weekend and reworked it into this over a few days; definitely better for it.
> 
> Yes I sent baby Thancred to Sastasha. In this time frame, it's claim to fame is as an old hideout of Mistbeard's. Maybe it is again before the Calamity and the Serpent Reavers claim it.
> 
> There's at least another chapter and an epilogue coming (the latter already drafted somehow!).


	11. Possibilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We knew how it would end, the question was how to get here.

It felt more than a little awkward to be standing with the Captain and the Sharlayans in the Admiral’s Stateroom. The room was well appointed and had the trophies and spoils of admirals past--mostly the ones who had died during their tenure, or had not survived the contest that determined their replacement.

The most interesting part of the room, of course, was the man behind the desk, rising to greet them. He was not what Thancred had expected. The Admiral was on the short side for a sea wolf, but broad and muscular, and all green; pine green hair, mint green skin--

Thancred looked from the Admiral to the Upright Lady and back again. “Well I’ll be damned,” he muttered.

She glanced over, the corner of her own green lips twitching, and she gave Thancred a wink before stepping forward and mocking a salute. “Sir,” she said, barely repressing a laugh.

The Admiral eyerolled. He looked decidedly less amused, but at least relieved. “Ye got some explanations fer me I hope, little sister.”

Thancred had to bite his tongue before pointing out the Captain was perhaps an ilm or two taller. He had never met an adult roegadyn shorter than her before, but this was not the time to indulge his amusement. Besides, the man still towered over him easily.

“Aye, that I do,” the Captain answered, giving the Admiral a rundown of events.

Tolu had been at the Captain’s throat for moons, it sounded like, eroding her authority and making deals on the side with various crews. He had kept an eye on the potentials, recruiting some for his own goals, while culling others--and then Thancred had shown up, and was not only willingly loyal to the Captain, but to the concepts that made the Upright Thieves work, and had shown to be skilled and driven to do more.

Still, Thancred was no more than a means to an end for the lalafell, until his interference in the duel with the Captain. While Thancred had enjoyed the countryside with the Sharlayans, the Thieves had quietly been at war, and Tolu had leapt at the chance to settle things with both the boy and the Captain in one swoop, once one of his cronies stumbled on Thancred’s location.

Thancred busied himself with examining things in the room, quietly pricing them in his head, to not think about how much trouble he had inadvertently, indirectly, caused--or how the Admiral’s gaze appraised him when the Captain drew attention his way, describing both his duel in the Sisters, and then his actions in Mistbeard’s old hideout, co-opted by Tolu’s gang.

The Admiral listened, arms crossed. “Now I know why our guests were caught up in this foolery,” he growled.

“To be fair,” Louisoix said in his calm, even tones. “I did hire the lad, and retained his services despite knowing some of what was happening, and took him with us to attempt to keep him safe--I was unaware of the rest until later.”

“We chose to get involved,” Papalymo added. Thancred glanced at him, hoping he hid his surprise quick enough. Papalymo gave him a smile, and so Thancred smiled back.

He was going to ignore Yda’s “told you so” expression for now.

“Thank you,” the Admiral said, and it took Thancred a moment to realize he was being addressed. “For savin’ me sister’s life, from her own people, no less.” He sighed and shook his head.

“Tolu wasn’t our people,” Thancred replied. “Just his own. But glad to have lent a hand, and the guild’s better for havin’ her in charge.” He tried to push away the image of Tolu’s ragdoll body lying on the sand, empty red eyes staring past Thancred.

“Flatterer,” the Captain said with a smile, then turned back to her brother. “In any case, call off yer bullies; I got things in hand again--and we’ll be dealin’ with the crews what took advantage of the situation, brief as it was.”

“Ye’d better,” he said. He turned to Louisoix next. “It seems you and yers got a bit more o’ the Limsa experience than ye perhaps bargained fer, Archon.”

“I daresay it was quite educational for us all,” Louisoix replied. He and the Admiral spoke then about the aetherytes, while the Captain tilted her head at Thancred.

“C’mon, got some work to do.”

Thancred looked at the others, then to her. Leaving in the midst of conversation felt wrong, but she was already heading for the door.

Louisoix inclined his head while listening to the Admiral, and so Thancred turned to follow the Captain. Yda and Papalymo, he realized, were also trailing along. As they stepped outside, the Captain let out a breath. “And now I don’t gotta put up with that fer another few moons, if I’m lucky. Maybe a whole year.”

“You don’t get along with your brother?” Yda asked. Papalymo pinched his nose.

The Captain sighed. “...We do and we don’t, I s’pose. His ship has been in the family fer a long while. I was a fair topman in my day, while our Da was cap’n. Then he died, my brother took up the post--and I was recruited by the Upright Thieves. S’how we get most o’ our colts, y’know; wharf rats like Thancred here are rarer catches.” She shook her head. “My brother never quite forgave me fer leavin’ the family business to be a shadow, watchin’ him as much as anyone else, but--he’s still my brother.” She grinned. “And gives me the privilege o’ walkin’ out when I damned well please. He ain’t no king at court, after all.”

Yda grinned back and nodded, satisfied. She turned to Thancred. “I hope you weren’t thinking of leaving without letting us say goodbye! Besides, there were still people you wanted us to meet, right?” She sounded...hopeful? Something, he couldn’t quite place it.

Thancred rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, no, ‘course I’d say somethin’, but there’s a lot to do after this mess.”

“We’re staying an extra day,” Papalymo said. “Time to recover and finish our business, before returning to Sharlayan. While your...new duties may have you busy, I do hope you’ll take some time for us.”

“I’ll make sure he has a minute or two to play,” the Captain drawled, amused. Thancred smiled and shrugged. She shook her head. “Fer now though, we gotta get goin’. Fer one thing, the Feral’s likely tearin’ up the walls, so let’s put her at ease, eh?”

Thancred nodded, and waved to his friends as he and the Captain departed. They made their way down to the lower docks, unnoticed by most people, a pair of ghosts strolling through the city.

“Captain?” Thancred asked finally, as they passed the Fisher’s guild.

“Hrm?”

“Why...Why’d ye leave yer ship and crew, yer family, to be a thief?”

She hummed a moment as she mulled over her answer. “I think, in the end, I realized it wasn’t where I needed to be,” she said, slowly. “It was all I knew, all I was raised fer, and expected to be--a pirate, me whole life. But the opportunity was there, and I felt I could do a lot more fer my crew, fer Limsa, if I took the chance.” She chuckled. “Wouldn’t be tusslin’ with me brother all the time, neither; we can only stand so much of each other.”

He laughed, too. “I bet!” He answered. Further questions would wait; they were at the docks where the Yellowjackets were transferring the survivors of Tolu’s gang to the skiff that would take them to the prison hulks in the bay. Thancred watched as Bern was hauled to his feet. Beyond him, watching from the shadows with a tight expression, was Feli. Her eyes slid off Bern as he was shoved to the deck of the skiff, and she finally saw Thancred. Her expression loosened, into one of her bright smiles. He waved. She turned and called behind her, and V’lenne appeared, half-tail twitching, fingers flexing, and overall simply looking ready to murder someone, and Thancred was the cove unlucky enough to get in her sights.

Ah yes; ‘twas good to be home.

The rest of the day--well, rest of the night, really--and into the next kept everyone busy enough. The Sharlayans’ possessions were brought up from Aleport, and early in the morning Thancred met Yda to help her finish her shopping, and finally introduced her to V’lenne.

They hit it off rather better than he had hoped and feared, and soon enough were hitting each other, while Thancred and Feli watched. “I truly don’t get the appeal,” Feli said, wincing as Yda’s fist slammed into V’lenne’s shoulder.

“Yet yer watchin’,” Thancred said.

She shrugged. “That’s different. Far more interesting to watch two people who enjoy it, I s’pose.”

Thancred frowned. “Yeah...Makes sense.” Best to change topics, perhaps. “Hey, Feli, can I ask somethin’?”

“Of course.”

“Before I left town with the Sharlayans, ye said ye'd disagreed with V’lenne sendin’ me to join the guild.”

“Did I?”

“More’r less. I just wondered...Why?”

She watched the other two women spar for a moment. “Because ye can do better,” she finally said, quietly enough he nearly missed it. “Ye got more’n just some skills with daggers and light feet. Even more’n yer charms. Yer smart, and ye got drive and will, and have only ever tried to make things better--fer the other kids in the gang, fer the few people ye call friends--hells, even durin’ this whole thing with Tolu.”

“I just messed things up worse there.”

Feli shook her head. “See, ye take it all on yerself, even when it ain’t yer fault--and most of that wasn’t. Ye just did what ye had to, to help the Captain.”

“And now the rest o’ the gang’s in the orphanage.”

“Doin’ better fer it, too,” Feli said bluntly. “V’lenne shoulda sent ‘em long ago; she’s just...scared o’ change, though the Navigator brings a new wind daily. I won’t be able to keep up with a buncha kids anyway, while tendin’ me own.”

“On yer own?” Thancred asked, watching her closely.

Feli shrugged. “I still got V’lenne, and she’s been nothin’ but supportive. Kept her from tearing up the docks too much, mebbe,” Feli said, smiling fondly toward their former gang leader, currently trying to keep Yda in a headlock. Thancred watched too, and wondered how sore they were going to be later--and this was after the real fighting Yda had done the day before.

“Anyway, I’ll stick with V’lenne fer now, at least, and mebbe me and my lil’ one’ll keep ‘er from collectin’ more strays fer a time,” Feli continued. “While you…”

He looked at Feli again as she trailed off. She was studying him. “What?”

“Do ye really wanna be a Thief? Or is it just cuz that’s what everyone expected? What was offered first?” She looked back at the fight between V’lenne and Yda. “Or do ye have the chance to do more?”

He looked away, across the next dock and out at the open sea.

He thought suddenly about Broken Storm, only a little wistful for her homeland, saddened by the tragedy of it, but content in the new life she had fallen into, after taking a chance and leaving when she had known she wasn’t happy with the Fist of Rhalgr.

He thought of the Captain, and the choice she had been given--a ship or a guild, and deciding which she could do more with.

He wondered what he had keeping him here, as he surreptitiously glanced at Feli, back to watching the fight. He had long known he wasn’t the only one in their old gang with a crush, and now he wondered if maybe that hadn’t gone both ways, after all. It was certainly a better option than someone like Bern again.

Yda was victorious--he would never admit aloud that he had expected that--and she pulled away her mask to wipe sweat from her brow. “All right, that was the best bout yet,” she said, clapping V’lenne on the shoulder. “Thanks for indulging me.”

“Any time,” V’lenne said with a wince. “Come back if ye want more.”

“Perhaps I shall,” Yda said. “Gotta go for now, though; our ship leaves soon.” She turned to Thancred. “You coming to the dock with me? Papalymo and Louisoix will w--”

“Yeah,” he said, pushing off the crate he was leaning on, next to where Feli sat. “I’m comin’.” He smiled his most charming smile--the one that he expected to get him into more trouble than it got him out of someday--as he waved to V’lenne and Feli before leaving with Yda.

He idly wondered how long it would take Feli to notice the blunt he’d left in her pocket, the majority of the pay for his two weeks working for Louisoix.

As they arrived shipside, Yda scrambled to tell the porters where to stow her small pile of packages and presents for Lyse. Thancred stepped up beside Louisoix, nodding to Papalymo.

“Is this farewell, then?” Louisoix asked, smiling down kindly.

Thancred took a deep breath, and looked the old man in the eye. “Ye made me an offer, a few nights back, and I said I’d give ye an answer, ‘fore ye boarded yer ship.”

Louisoix raised a brow. “Oh? I do recall the conversation, but I was under the impression the decision had already been made.”

Thancred shook his head. “I thought I knew where I belong. But I think I was just….goin’ by what was expected of me. What I knew, and what was familiar.”

“And now?” Louisoix asked, in that teacher tone.

Thancred thought of books about wondrous, ancient civilizations and the Calamity they had called upon the realm. He thought of Garleans in Ala Mhigo, and the wistful sighs of the people from that land. He thought of cities full of mage families, passing down magic staffs and dark pretzel recipes, and the willingness to help others despite what the Forum said. He thought of the Captain and Feli, and their beliefs in something more than what one expected.

He thought of a small body hitting the sand, lifeless eyes staring into him, daring him, to--what?

Only one way to find out.

Thancred squared his shoulders. “Still got room fer me?” His voice didn’t crack; that was good.

Louisoix smiled and nodded, and Papalymo actually cheered, and called to Yda, waving her over.

“What, what did I miss?”

“I’m coming with ye,” Thancred said quickly, before he could change his mind. “I wanna go to Sharlayan--and I wanna try to be an archon, too.”

He said it, and that made it real, gods bless.

“Really!” Yda squealed and hugged him. “You’ll catch up to me in no time, I just know it! I’ll even help you!”

“Hah!” Papalymo sniffed. “It’ll be no easy task; for many disciplines, it can take upwards of six years and you’ve got some catching up to do--”

“I’ll do it in three,” Thancred replied. Papalymo gave him a good-natured scoff, but Louisoix only smiled more. Thancred meant it as a jape, but that wild, insistent voice in the back of his mind was asking _‘Why not?’_ once again.

“Yda,” Louisoix said. “Do you have that last shopping item with you?”

“Oh! Well, I guess this won’t be a farewell present, then, but more of a...welcome, I suppose!” Yda said, thrusting a small package into Thancred’s hands.

He took a moment, looking at them all, and then carefully opened it, sucking in a breath as the last of the wrapping fell away.

It was a new, leather-bound journal, thick with clean pages. There was a packet of pencils and a very nice quill pen, as well. His throat felt closed up.

His colleagues grinned. “We couldn’t help it, after what happened to your other one!” Yda said. “And now, well, I guess you’ll really need it, for our studies. Believe me. You’ll want to take notes.”

The bosun called the all aboard. “Our cue,” Louisoix said. “I had best mention that fourth berth shall be required after all.” He headed up the gangplank to speak to the ship’s mate.

“Ye’ll always have a berth here, too, if needed,” the Upright Lady said. She was leaning on a beam nearby; Thancred wasn’t sure how long she had been there. “But I think ye’ll find yer own place well enough. We taught ye what we could, but ye’ll do Limsa--mebbe even the whole bloody realm--better where yer headed.” She straightened. “I’ll let V’lenne and Feli know--they're like to have a few unkind whids ‘bout you skippin’ town and breakin’ their hearts with nary a word,” she teased.

“Thanks, Captain.”

“Get to yer ship, Thancred. We meet again, I s’pect to see some new ink on ye.” She was gone between eye blinks.

“Thancred, come on!” Yda called. She and Papalymo were waving from the gangplank.

He tucked his new journal away and sprinted up to join them.


	12. Postscript

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many years later and as far across the realm as one can get from Limsa Lominsa...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Published immediately after Ch 11 "Possibilities", if you missed the double update.

“Is that _really_ what happened?” the girl across the fire asked.

“More or less,” Thancred answered. “It was a long time ago, and a bard is allowed a few embellishments besides.”

“Aren’t you a rogue?”

“I am an archon, my dear; we are many things.” He gave her a small smile.

“My mamas weren’t kiddin’ when they said you were a cheeky arse.”

“Some things are simply inherent to one’s character.”

She shook her head and drank from her canteen. Around them, soldiers of the Alliance and Resistance mingled among the tents of Rhalgr’s Reach. The celebratory mood was fading, as the real work of winning their war for freedom now began in earnest, but the overall feeling was still quite optimistic.

Thancred had meant to return to Ala Mhigo with Y’shtola, but then this Maelstrom private had hesitantly walked up to him, asking confirmation of his name, and offering her mothers’. The girl was tall for a hyur, but short for an elezen, broad in shoulder and long of limb. The private’s face had that round, still-unfinished look of late adolescence, though she also wore a battle scar on her right cheek, and likely a few others he could not see. Her hair was dark, her skin fair, and she had her birth mother’s charming smile.

He could only hope the child had better sense in romantic partners than she had at that age. Hells, better sense for most things, than any of them had had when so very young.

“In any event, the details are not as important as the results,” Thancred said. Once he might have added more flourish to his tales and the telling of them, but he was damned tired after all the fighting. Besides, the girl seemed to have her other mother’s ability to call him on his shite. “Instead of an Upright Thief, I became an archon, and then a Scion. It has not always been easy--rarely, actually--but I made my choices, and now I must live with them. ‘Tis all any of us can do, in the end.”

“Has it been worth it, though?”

He thought about that. So many now well beyond Thal’s Gates, to whatever heaven or hell awaited them. So many he had sent there himself, those faces and names weighing heavily on his soul, their glassy eyes accusatory and awaiting the day he met his own judgment. So many faces that he missed, and always would, their names etched into his heart, deeper than the inscription on the stones of Bloodstorm.

_Did you see Eorzea rise as one? Did you hear the cheers?_

He looked out across the Reach, at the many colors of the Alliance. Six years ago, this had all seemed a pipe dream; Ala Mhigo had been under the Empire’s boot, Ishgard’s gates had been sealed as they bled from their thousand year war, the remaining city-states had been fractious (the girl’s uniform and unit had not even existed yet) and then the White Raven had called down the moon…

But, somehow, after years of plans and subtle efforts--and massive strides made by the Warriors of Light--Eorzea had changed, coming closer to Louisoix’s vision, first hinted at, to Thancred at least, on a balcony in Aleport when he was even younger than Feli and V’lenne’s daughter was now. Yda had been about the same age back then, he remembered.

_If only you were here to see..._

He caught a glimpse of Alphinaud and Arenvald talking and laughing with a few other young soldiers, practically acting their ages. Alisaie and Krile were haggling with the sutlers, Urianger patiently waiting alongside them and soothing Mistress Leveilleur’s temper as needed. Beyond them, the Warrior of Light strode up to the Command Post, where Lyse and M’naago leaned over maps, looking up to greet their friend. And there was Y’shtola, skulking--poorly--across the way, waiting for him after all.

Loss, gain; it never quite balanced out, but came close enough. And many of the goals they had strove so long for, well, they were more or less met, weren’t they?

Were he still a Thief, he would not be a part of this now. Let Swallow have the guild and call them Rogues; that was not where Thancred belonged.

He had much more work to do, for far more people.

The girl across the fire opened her mouth to ask again.

“Yes,” Thancred said.

Today, anyway, that was his answer. Tomorrow, it might change. But for now, his friends safe again, and surrounded by the flags of the Eorzean Alliance in a free Gyr Abania--as far from Limsa as one could get and still be in the realm, he recalled--his choice felt worthwhile indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know that it was necessary after the last chapter, but I had the image in my head a couple weeks back and it wouldn't go away; this has actually been drafted for awhile, and revised as the last few chapters developed. Some things about the secondary OCs came together in the background as I wrote this story over time, and got woven in, and here we are, some 37,200-odd words later; definitely the longest piece I've written in a long time!
> 
> I like hopeful, happy endings, and letting people we too often see otherwise have moments of light.
> 
> Thanks always for all the comments and encouragement along the way!


End file.
